#look away if you're not interested because whatever it's my boring life stuff but. worked sunday and tuesday. thursday my boss texted me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsintotwo · 1 year

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[My toxic trait is I’d get an unhinged fic idea for a niche fandom that maybe two other people want to read and STILL up and write it because it drives me crazy not to 🤦‍♀️...This is 59 Hours, Jake (Sweetbitter) x Reader. Snowed in and stuck in his apartment. Good Girl x Bad Boy, will be a few parts and will get lots saucier)]

Hour 01

You don’t know him, only that he’s called Jake. He’s pale, tall, slender, and casually handsome in a scruffy sort of way. You’re stuck in his apartment. And you have zero idea when you can leave.

‘You tried going to work in this fucking weather?’, he asks you. He’s looking out the window, but there’s nothing to see except pure white.

‘I was already almost here’. News about this surprise blizzard arrived about the same time as the storm itself did. ‘Had to check out of my motel in the morning.’ you say from his single couch.

‘Not from here?’, he looks at you. An earring glints on his left ear.

‘No. But my firm collects data for neighborhoods all over the country. So I go all over.’

‘Data?’

‘Socio-economic stuff. Income, living standard, health.'

He eyes you, 'Aren't you too young to get stuck in a boring job like that?'

'It's not boring. You get to talk to all sorts of people.'

So much for that today, though. By the time you got there no one was out because FUCKING BLIZZARD, and you realized that the only thing you needed then anyway was to not be out in the open.

You started walking- with no sense of direction and a mounting sense of helpless frustration. You couldn’t see two feet in front of you, and you were stuck in a shitty part of the town. To top it off, your phone ran out of battery because it’s just that kind of a day, isn’t it? Then walking simply became impossible, so you leaned against the wall you were walking along and let the stupid tears fall. As it turned out, the wall was opposite his building and that’s when he saw you angrily wiping the tears off.

'What do you do?' you ask. 'You were going out too.'

‘I bartend. And I wasn’t going out. I just opened the building side-door a few inches and saw this chick crying.’, he says with a smirk. It’s more condescending than jokey. This man doesn’t much care about being a nice guy, you think. But then, if he didn’t offer you shelter- be it out of sympathy, pity or basic decency- you’d be freezing to death right now.

‘Yeah.’, you say evenly, ‘I felt overwhelmed, and I cried.’ You see no point in being defensive. ‘Thank you, though, for letting me wait in your apartment’, you realize you forgot to say this until now. ‘You probably just saved my life.’, you add, earnest.

You don’t think he expected this answer to his dig. His smile disappears and he looks away. ‘Whatever’, he says, ‘It’s nothing. You said you had a flight?’, he’s got his phone in his hand, frowning, the blue glow lighting up the profile of his face- the sharp lines of his cheekbones, nose, chin and jaw.

You’ve found his power outlet, and are just plugging in your own phone, taking the charger out of your backpack. ‘Yeah, in the afternoon. As soon as my phone has some juice I’ll call for an Uber to the airport, and I will be out of your hair.‘

‘Yeah.’, he says, turning his phone around so you can see the news headline on the screen, ‘Good luck with that.’

All Outgoing Flights from NYC Cancelled.

Shit.

Hour 02

Jake's eyes are a vivid blue. He's from Cape Cod. He works at the Union Square Cafe. The woman who called to check in is not his girlfriend. This is as much as you learned about him in over an hour. He's not much of a talker. So far he’s largely ignored you- pacing about, fidgeting with items in the apartment, tapping his phone. You don't mind, but you mind that you're intrigued by him.

You're from a small town. When you're out working, you don't meet Jake's kind of people: people who give this edgy-cool vibe. It's effortless too. And he's hot. But you better not be interested, 'cause there's another current to the vibe you know very well: bad news. Jake is trouble. You don't have time for that sort of stuff.

He plops down on the bed. Lounges in a way that reminds you of a jungle cat. 'I’m almost out.’, he says, lighting another cigarette. ‘This is my emergency pack. That’s why I went downstairs to look. To see if I could get out for a quick minute and get a fucking carton or something.’ You guess he's starting to talk out of pure boredom.

You sort of claimed Jake's couch. It's big enough for two and very comfortable. Snuggling in there with your feet up, you look at him. Even sitting down, leaning back, there's some kind of restless, coiled energy in him. Under his thin white tee-shirt, you can tell his muscles are toned… okay, maybe not a good idea to notice that. But you can’t help noticing how the ones in his arm flex, because the elaborate tattoos keep drawing your eyes on there.

‘Is that what's making life hard for you right now?’, you say instead, deadpan. The blizzard actually got worse, the news portals are reporting unprecedented bad weather, and not even a truck, let alone an Uber car, could get here now through the snow. And where would you go anyway?

Jake snorts, letting a stream of smoke out of his nose and mouth. ‘You don’t, do you? Smoke?’

‘No. Never have.’

He raises his brows slightly. ‘Never? Not even a drag in high school?’ He’s got a voice that you like- a bit gruff and guttural.

‘No.’

‘Stronger stuff?’

‘Nope.’

‘Ever?’

‘Nope.

‘Sounds fun, between this and the job.'

'I haven't had much time for fun.', you say. Then you curse yourself. That bit of info was too personal to drop on a stranger- that too this stranger. There's just something about two people in a tiny space, sitting in a growing haze of smoke, with the world out all white and non-existent, you guess. Creates an illusion of closeness that's not there.

But you said what you said, and you don't look away as his eyes lock with yours. 'Family shit?', he asks.

'Shit family', you say in short.

He nods and raises the bottle in his hand. 'I'll drink to that.' He takes a swig and offers it to you.

You shake your head, 'I'd rather have some food. Would you happen to have anything to eat? Or I can cook. Unfortunately, it looks like we’ll both be here for a while.'

'See if you can find anything in the fridge’, he sweeps the air with his hand, again drawing your attention to his tattoo. You think it’s a mermaid.

You stand up, and before stepping away, say, ‘Hey. Thanks again. I know you’d rather not have a random girl in your apartment-‘

‘That’s what you think?’, he gives a wolfish grin, looking up at you.

‘Well,’, you’re a bit flustered, but you recover, ‘Not one like me anyway. A rescue project. Here for an indefinite time- can’t chuck me out, can’t get out. And boring. So…’

He acknowledges your sarcastic dig with a slight nod. Then he says, ‘You’re not so bad, for a random girl.’, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

Hour 04

Like many things, you’re also the cook in your family and you whipped up a decent meal. Truth be told you were a bit nervous- Jake works at a high-end restaurant, and while you’re not trying to impress him here you’d feel bad if he didn’t like the food. It’s his food anyway. But he seems to not only approve but enjoy it. He actually says, ‘Thank you’.

This makes you smile and- damnit, girl. That happy warmth in your stomach’s gotta go ‘cause it’s not the food that’s doing it. Jake’s got a small table with two chairs and sitting opposite him in the low light, eating and actually having some sort of an adult conversation- with thorny back-and-forths sprinkled in that you find challenging but exhilarating- is feeding into a gap in your life. You always either eat alone or you’re the only real adult at the table, worrying about whether your younger siblings are eating what they’re supposed to and whether your mom is eating at all.

But playing house with a strange guy in a strange city is not the way to band-aid that wound. You start clearing out the paper plates.

‘Let me.’, he stands up, taking the plates from your hand. His fingers brush yours. It should be nothing, but it isn’t.

‘Nobody’s cooked for me in ages.’, Jake says, unexpected because it’s real, free of sarcasm or cynicism as you’re learning is his usual style.

He’s really close to you. Your eyes meet, his look dark and stormy in the low light, and then they drop to your mouth for a second, making your heart drop a beat.

The shrill ring of his phone breaks the moment. He goes to receive the call, and you catch your breath.

Oh, this is so stupid.

And dangerous.

And inviting.

Hour 07

You realize you fell asleep on the couch. Jake is sleeping too, he’s on the bed. You browse your phone for a while and your heart sinks. The storm is expected to continue through the night. The city is at a standstill. The cell reception has started glitching too.

You stand up, go wash your face, walk around the apartment, looking at things. Jake’s got some cool books, an expensive camera, photos he took (you assume) framed on the wall. They’re of the beach, the sea, a woman. Then you look at him sleeping, and there’s this liquid affection that churns in you suddenly- without the usual furrowed brows and the hard set of his mouth, he looks so innocent and vulnerable. The dark hair falling on his forehead, thick lashes, smooth cheeks, soft lips. He’s actually quite pretty when he's not scowling, you realize.

Okay, neither that affection nor this realization is helpful. Smoke still hangs in the air, making the room stuffy, and you think you can open the widow a crack and let in some fresh air. But what come in are a flurry of snow and a bone-chilling gust, waking Jake up.

‘What the fuck?’, he says, sitting up, groggy.

‘Sorry, sorry!’, you close his window as quickly as you can and hold up your hands. ‘Just thought I’d let in some fresh air for a few seconds.’

He shakes his head, then checks his phone, frowning at the slow internet. ‘It’s not looking good for you’, he comments after a minute.

‘Yeah’, you sit down on the side of the bed, ‘I’m really sorry, Jake.’

‘You should be.’, he stretches, his t-shirt riding up just a bit, revealing a sliver of his pale, flat stomach- God, that’s distracting- ‘because of course, you personally summoned the storm, made it snow, got stuck on purpose.’

You roll your eyes, ‘I’m sorry I may have to impose upon you much longer than either of us planned.’

‘We can find ways’- he leans in, a smile pulling up the corner of his mouth, the silver chain he wears around his neck dangling, ‘to make us both less sorry.’

You are young, but you aren’t supposed to be naïve. So you’re really annoyed at how this instantly speeds up your heartbeat. You swallow, and say, ‘Are you flirting with me?’

‘Why?’, he cocks his head, ‘Does Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes disapprove?’ This close, you can smell his slept-in smell, and that shouldn’t be attractive, let alone this attractive.

‘No,’ you say, ‘just surprised to see Mr. Broody-Two-Shoes be interested in less-sorry thoughts.’

He snorts, ‘Thanks to your terrible joke, I no longer am.’

‘The hours I spent with you must be already rubbing off on me.’, you quip back, and this time his smile is almost genuine. You’re both quiet for a moment, and you know you both feel the connection that’s growing between you two.

‘I’m gonna go take a shower’, he moves away abruptly, and you have a feeling he’s afraid of connections that are real. That would be in character. You don’t judge though- you have your own issues, he has his. Both come down to the same thing- you two shouldn’t… fuck.

Why the heck did I think about that?- you curse yourself. As if it’s already not hard enough to rein in your mind.

While Jake showers, you change too. You’re spending the night here, there’s no getting around it. You have to travel light, and outfit choices for when you were supposed to be alone are not great. You slip on your tank top and pj shorts with a loose cardigan.

When Jake comes out of the shower, he stares at you for a moment. You are showing a lot more skin than you had been all day, so you get it, but worse, you kind of love how his eyes sweep over your body, seem to get stuck on the red birthmark under your throat. Making the situation more problematic is: post-shower Jake smells really good and he’s already done that thing with his arm that makes his tee ride up and you’ve not only seen his stomach again but also the sharp beginning of his pelvic bones because he’s wearing the loose pants low.

‘You look at home’, Jake comments, walking towards you.

You shrug, ‘Thought I’d claim the land.’

‘What about the owner?’ He’s standing really close. And okay, maybe he's this older guy, slick, no doubt has lots more experience with women than you have with men. He clearly sees that, so maybe he's just teasing you. Just some fun- get under your skin, make you squirm. But you aren't blind, and you see that some of it is real interest. The attraction between you two right now, chemistry, whatever- it's both-sided. You feel heat gathering in your abdomen. And that almost catches you off-guard. Arousal, and just from the mere proximity of this guy. You should stop this now.

‘I don’t plan to claim him.’, you say, trying to keep your voice even.

‘Why?’, Jake's voice drops to a husky, gravelly pitch, ‘Not good enough for you?’ You can see he’s taken your words as either offense or challenge, but you’re not into lying games.

So you say, ‘Maybe too good for me to afford.’, and walk away towards your couch. You’ll be safer on your own.

(Update: Part 2)

#sweetbitter #jake #jake x you #jake x reader #tom sturridge #fanfic #fic #sweetbitter fanfic #writing is how I release emotions #so don't judge me #have NOT forgotten about MidnighTS x Morpheus either #jake x oc

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whysodelirious08 · 2 years

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Fantasy storybook stuff

Eddie Munson x Any reader [Gender Neutral]

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Summary: You're dropping off your brother Dustin to Eddie's trailer for a D&D session with no intention of staying but your interest in Eddie and his band influences you to stay a little while.

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Genre: Fluff and Fun. Minor friendly!

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Warnings: No spoilers! Don’t worry, you’re safe here. Some profanities.

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Word count: 1.8k

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I do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful to me and my work. — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog! Ask if you have any questions.

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You weren't particularly into one kind of music or the other, you just drifted into whatever you felt was right at the time. Though you often pondered just how plain your life would be without your Sony Walkman. If you weren't dropping off your brother Dustin to his D&D games or working, you were preparing to attend your first year of college later this year, and if not either of those then you were picking up extra shifts working the clean up shift at Scoops Ahoy where you had been happy to find that Steve Harrington was getting along well with Dustin.

As much as you rarely admitted to it, you had found a keen interest in a very local band; Corroded Coffin. You had managed to hide and sneak around just to get a chance at seeing them play. Seeing Eddie play. Okay. Yeah perhaps you had a interest in Eddie, nothing serious obviously but even you couldn't deny that under that denim jacket and well tamed mop of hair, he was a good looking dude. You knew better to form any attachments, though. You had to leave for college that year and couldn't commit yourself to anything, and you didn't want people knowing you perhaps, maybe had the hots for the guy.

What you didn't know was that when you arrived to drop your brother off this particular evening, you would knock the door and be met with none other than Eddie himself.

"Dustin! Please! You know I don't understand any of your fantasy storybook stuff" you groaned as you let your hands run down your face in a dramatic manner, letting your arms flop to your sides after. The door opened just as you had said that.

""Fantasy storybook stuff"? Surely you're not referring to one of the greatest games ever made?" A familiar yet new voice appeared, a smirk appearing on Eddie's face while he looked through his eyebrows a little at you. You groaned and rolled your eyes playfully.

"Not you too." You said sarcastically though it was taking you every ounce of power in your body to not die from excitement and fear. He was there. Actually there. In front of you. Jesus what were you? Thirteen? Your comment towards Eddie earned a chuckle which only made your heart race a little faster. You smiled but looked away to your car.

"What? In a rush to leave? Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Eddie joked, leaning against the door while Dustin looked at you, smiling, waiting.

"Yeah because I want to spend my free time listening to Dustin and his buddies act out soke fantasy nonsense? Yeah-no I'll pass" You said after you scoffed and turned on your heel.

"Hey come on! It's not boring I promise and I'm sure Eddie can help you make a super awesome character! Please-!" Dustin said as he clung to your arm, facing you to look at him, your back to Eddie but you could sense his smile at Dustin's attempts to convince you.

"Thirty minutes. That's all I'll give you to convince me. Take it or leave it." You stated as you pulled your arm away gently though you wanted to be up close to Eddie, you wanted nothing more than to be his friend but making friends wasn't your strong point. Dustin cheered a little and dragged you along, not giving you a chance to change your mind, trying to ignore Eddie though you brushed past him to get through the door. You were lead to where the rest of the group were and got some well deserved strange looks since everyone knew you weren't into this stuff, your taste was a little different than the genres involved in the game.

You took a seat at the table, made to sit next to Erica, though you didn't mind since she seemed nice, apart from her odd comments about people's appearances, you had since made a mental note to not piss her off or else be faced with criticism about how you looked, and that was the last thing you needed. You had yet to find a style that worked, often just grabbing something that worked. You had more important things to worry about.

"Alright, alright. Gather yourselves, kids. This ones gonna get rough!" He said as he clapped while he sat down in his throne of sorts. You didn't take your eyes off him, not for the entirety of the session. You were hooked on his descriptive tellings, even if you had no fucking clue what it all meant. You had caught his glance a few times and you had promptly smiled and looked turned into what the group was saying every time, just to avoid the awkwardness. Your lip rolled between your teeth as you drifted off into your thoughts, wandering a little before you heard the screams of the chairs while the group stood up.

"Ugh! Next time, Munson! I'm gunna-" Erica started but didn't finish as the group diverted the conflict and attention, you heard Eddie's quiet laughter as he closed the divider.

"Let's not argue the facts. Anyway-" He stated and then his eyes dropped to you.

"Thirty minutes, huh? What happened to that? Perhaps our little game isn't so bad?" He smiled and walked over, hand resting on the table as he leaned to the side a bit.

Your cheeks reddened but not enough to notice.

"Yeah yeah whatever. Actually I have a bit of a favour-" You asked as you stood up, glancing over at the group who were talking amongst themselves.

"A favour you say? How can I be of service, my keen wanderer?" He asked. Cheesy. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes, you noticed how he leaned in a little.

"Well I know you're in a band. And I was wondering if you would…teach me how to play guitar? I mean, I have a few months left until college and-" you rambled a little, for fingers interlocked together. You glanced away a bit, human interaction. It was never your forte.

"Oh? You want me to teach you? Hmm. And what would I get in return?" He asked and he moved to stand fully, pulling his sleeves up to reveal his tattoo. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for your answer.

"Well…I can help…uh- help you with your…school work?" You offered, knowing that that may be a bad choice. You knew Eddie had been held back and yet here you were willing to help him out just because you wanted to get close to him. You couldn't just say 'Hey, you seem cool. Can we get to know each other?'. You just had to find awkward ways of getting close to people.

"That sounds like a pretty neat deal to me, Henderson the First" he joked, seeing as you were the older sibling. You sighed a little but found it funny just enough to laugh under your breath.

"Well how about now? I'm free and I wouldn't give up the chance to tease you at how bad you're gonna be at guitar" he admitted as he walked over and grabbed his bag. You knew he lived at the trailer park and you often avoided such a place.

"Uh…sure. I guess. I gotta drop Dustin off though" You mention before you see that he's already headed off with his friends and sigh a bit.

"Apparently not." You stated with a dry chuckle before Eddie moved back to grab an acoustic guitar.

"Right. You take this and site over there, I'll show you some basics on my Baby." Eddie explained and you did as you were told. You spent the next hour side by side with Eddie, his slow guidance and gentle corrections helped you get the gist of things, a rush felt every time he physically corrected your finger placement. You felt a lot better with his words of encouragement, knowing how your music teacher in school just got annoyed and eventually gave up trying to teach the class anything.

"Not bad for a newbie" Eddie teased a little before you nudged him. Before letting the guitar slide into your lap a little.

"So…Corroded Coffin?" You asked, absolutely dying on the inside from excitement. You loved to listen to them rock out, hearing them in person was 100 times better than listening to any song on record or cassette.

"Shit! You know about that?!" He laughed, clearly surprised, moving to put his guiltless back.

"Yeah…you're insane on that guitar! I've not been brave enough to show my face though. I mean it is usually the drinks who are listening but yeah…" Your voice soft yet your excitement showed enough.

"What?! No, man you come see us. It would be great to actually have someone who's interested in listening. Not that this town cares for me, let alone my music" He laughed a little and sat back down.

"You sing by any chance?" He joked, clearly not expecting any kind of answer but you couldn't help by wonder if saying yes meant you'd get an 'audition' just for the hell of it.

"What if I say yes?" You joked back with a smirk, standing up to meet his eyes. You saw him raise his brow a little, waving his hands up a little.

"Then I'd say you better prove it. My band needs a vocalist" he challenged. You suddenly felt a rush of nerves, what had you gotten yourself into now?

"I'll sing if you sing. Deal? I'm not doing karaoke by myself" you state as you crossed your arms, Eddie moving to match you.

"Alright. But no laughing at my voice." He stated, moving to look through his records.

"Iron maiden? Black Sabbath? Dio? Accept? WASP?" He listed out some names and yet you let him pick for you out of a few that you mentioned you knew. And that was it, there the two of you were; acting like total idiots as you sung, you were laughing more than singing by the end, mainly at Eddie's attempts at singing into the bottle of cola he had previously picked up to drink. The music blared from the trailer, the space was a little small but that didn't stop the two of you. By the end of it he had you in his arms, laughing into each other, using each other for support before you crashed into the couch.

"You sounded like shit-!" You exclaimed finally as you finally breathed slower. Watching as Eddie let his head fall back, their curls falling with it to give give a clear view of his face.

"Well so did you!" He countered with a smile, shaking his head a bit. You pushed him gently and sunk back into the seat.

"No, you were good actually. Perhaps I'll introduce you to the rest of the guys huh?" He said finally after you both rested enough. You found yourself smiling like a dumbass back at him.

"Yeah?" You asked excitedly, childlike excitement beaming. It would a dream. You were so into music but that wasn't an career option for you.

"Sure. Wanna grab something to eat..?" He asked now. This was the best afternoon ever and it was only getting better…

[@alittlebitofinsanitea request]

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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silverskye13 · 2 years

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I adore all your hels stuff! What other ideas do you have about some of the other helsmits, maybe the ones mentioned in your interview? Like, Hels!Stress was pretty interesting. Plus Joe and alive Cleo.

I'm mostly all vague ideas except for the stuff that finally gets written down and tossed here, but I can give you a list of my many vagueries if you want! Various helsmets and world-building under the cut. It's a very long post.

Some baseline world-building I've got figured out:

First thing's first: we're all going to have to cope with the fact that in my head, hels looks a lot like Bloodborne. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this either. Now that that's out of the way--

Hels are a phenomena not exclusive to Hermitcraft. Any SMP could have a hels, or an evil double or mirror image or whatever-you-wanna-call-it split from them and spontaneously spawn one day in hels. Hels is a world with no overworld, it's all nether all the time, and a pretty miserable place to be. It's not impossible to live there, but given just about everyone is made up of the worse/discarded traits of someone better, people tend to be harsh and mean first and make friends later. The Deep Dark exists in hels (because I think it's fun) but its up by the bedrock ceiling. This makes sense because hels is a mirror of the real world, and also the Deep Dark would probably exist as far away from the light lava provides as possible, I figure? So it's by the bedrock ceiling.

All hels denizens are destined to two paths in life. Either you become one with your other half someday, or you set yourself so far apart from your other half you become your own person. I figure because of this, hels has a lot of religious undertones? They're a race of people grappling with the idea that any day, one of them could just stop existing. That's something you've got to cope with actively if you're going to cope with it at all. There are a lot of churches in hels [loosely churches. if it's vaguely philosophical and you can put it in a building, it's called a church. some are actually religious, some are just a little spiritual, some are thinly veiled fronts for criminal activity...]

Some noodling I've done with helsmets:

Evil Xisuma: Xisuma's helsmet, but they've been independent of each other so long there's no way they'd ever become one person again. Evil X has limited access to creative mode and uses it solely for selfish gain. Being the only person with god powers gets boring though, and he's long exhausted his tantrums of raining TNT on various parts of town just to see what'll happen. Now he spends most of his time sulking in his tower, being melodramatic and vaguely evil, and occasionally making formal speeches.

Helsknight: A very active member of the community and a big fan of vigilante justice. He is either the most popular or least popular helsmet, depends on what side of his law you fall on. He is very dedicated to the church that hosts his knightly tenets. When he isn't threatening everyone who looks at him funny and moonlighting in the shadow of his church, he hones his swordcraft in a coliseum, which is my justification for the rap lines "Everyone lives in fiery cells" and "I'm their greatest champion so ring your warning bells" in Diabolical. He's a champion, he fought his way through the coliseum. Any knight worth their metal started in the cells there and worked their way up.

JoeKills: He doesn't live in hels, he was forcibly exiled for disturbing the peace shortly after he first spawned. It's one of the handful of times Evil X has ever had to ban someone from hels. He spends most of his time leaping from world to world, enacting mild-to-extreme terrorism and vigilante justice on anything that doesn't match his world view - mostly to the tune of tearing apart large corporations brick by burning brick. He hates JoeHills with a fiery passion, and heaven help the both of them if they ever meet in person. I'm on the fence if I think they could ever be one person again. They're both so unhinged, their coming together would probably kick off the apocalypse.

Alive!Cleo: She's a mob boss who uses a church as a front. It's a very thin front and most everyone knows what's up, but she's scary so no one does anything about it either. She runs a decent chunk of the east side of the Main Hels City I Haven't Named Yet And Probably Won't. Her and Hels come to blows often. She, like Evil X, has defined herself from Cleo enough they could probably never be the same person. It was mostly unintentional. She needed something to do, she figured out she loves her work, she's building an empire. HumanCleo is the big picture planning to ZombieCleo's impulsiveness. Where Z!Cleo rushed The Red King at Dogwarts and died, H!Cleo would've found a way to join Dogwarts to tear it down from the inside. H!Cleo is also terrified of dying. Doesn't matter that respawn is a thing you can do in hels. As far as she's concerned, this is a hardcore world and she's winning.

Hels!Stress: She says "lovely" instead of "gorgeous". She wears all black instead of pink. She thinks her hermit is adorable but in that patronizing way a villain thinks the hero is adorable when they first meet. That's not to say Hels!Stress is evil. She's just very aware of how competent she is. She gets things done and she does them easily, unflappably. She has a larger-than-life reputation. Did you hear she once wrangled a ghast and used it to break through the bedrock to the ceiling above? Did you hear she growled at the Warden and it ran away? She fought ten warriors in the coliseum with one arm tied behind her back and won. Most of them are probably lies, but people have witnessed enough of them in person to wonder how many are truths - and she definitely starts some of the rumors herself just to see how far they balloon out of proportion. I kinda wanna call her FinesseMonster.

Docm77: His hels doesn't exist. Undecided on if he existed once and doesn't anymore, or if he's just never existed. If he did exist though, I think he would be a Doc who actually follows through. Listen, Doc does a lot of grand standing. He's scary until you dare him to flinch, and then 9 times out of 10, he flinches. If Doc had a hels, he would be quiet, and whenever he spoke, he would always follow through.

Grian: Pesky bird! I kicked around the idea that Grian's hels would be a Watcher, just because I never do Watcher takes seriously. I think it works with Grian as a player, since he's very active and engaged with the world he's in [hermitcraft]. So a helsmet who watches and manipulates would actually be very good for him. Bonus points for the fact that Grian is a bit manipulative himself. He's known for pushing buttons. A hels who observes and only ever quietly points out when you're giving in to your faults would be insidious in how close it is to your personal thoughts, especially when they grow so close to you, their voice is identical to your own. How much of this is intrusive thought and how much of this is just voice? How long has it been since you were able to tell?

FalseSymmetry: [I've read before that her hels would be TrueSymmetry and I think thats amazing, lets keep that]. Anyway, I think her hels would be scary, or would be based on the idea that people think False is scary. False is a lot like Etho in that her reputation precedes her, but compared to her inner voice - her videos - she's actually very nervous and a bit bumbling. It's just that she's quiet in a somewhat stoic way when it comes to competition, that gives her the reputation. So I think TrueSymmetry and FalseSymmetry are a lot alike. Visually they're very similar. Their voices are almost identical. But while False is quiet because she's nervous, True is quiet because she really is stoic and intimidating. I think she takes a lot of pleasure in pointing out to False when people are scared of her. I imagine when Tango released the withers in the nether, and he laughed nervously and said, "Well hey we only need you, right False? You can take on three withers all on your own." True was a little voice in the back of her head saying, "See? He's scared of what you're capable of. You're going to hurt them all someday... or let them down..." False insisted they wait until Grian could come and help as well.

Iskall85: Iskall and his helsmet are also a lot alike, but where Iskall broke away from his "official hitman status" and started pursuing other things like building and redstone, his helsmet never left the life. There's is a mirror that reflects two choices in life, a splitting point where Iskall's life could've gone much differently. They don't dislike each other, but they do regard each other with a lot of sideways glances. Someday they will be so different they'll be unrecognizable. This is the best chance for both of them to survive the fact that they are hels and hermit. It takes a lot of restraint to end a friendship with your reflection. Years of progress will be undone if one of them breaks and looks back too long.

The Red King we've mostly heard of! And what little I have left on him I'm keeping to myself for if I write him more.

Tanguish is also pretty thoroughly revealed.

VintageBeef is a blood god as a hels. Because I love that for him. Very eldritch entity, The Slaughter from TMA. He has a public face he barely holds together. He likes to emulate his hermit in order to scare people.

Noodling I've done with hels denizens that aren't hermits:

Vaugely I think Dream and DreamXD are probably hels doubles. No idea which is which. I don't follow DSMP enough.

Pixlriffs: The King of Pixandria has a hels! He thrives in a place with such an affinity for spirituality and death. I fell like while Pixandria Pix had a healthy respect for death and honored it, shepherdly almost, hels!Pix views death as a cruel inevitability.

The Mad King of Mazelea: He has a hels as well. I haven't gotten much farther than a vague Red King-ish figure but with more wildly swinging moods.

LDShadowlady: You cannot tell me in every incarnation of Lizzie in her many SMPs that she's not her hels' best friend. That seems like her kind of chaos she's be very on-brand for. They drive each other deeper and deeper into shenanigans, constantly egging each other on. It's like playing chicken but instead of driving two cars towards each other you're both driving for a cliff and you're both definitely not stopping until you've driven off it.

#spazzcat barks #the barking writer #helsmets #through hels and high water #heslmet masterpost #kinda

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demonfuck · 3 months

Text

thinking about making art that is patient

being the way that i am, this maybe kind of comes naturally to me

as a teen i found it interesting to make art with no audience in mind. as in, NO audience. it will sit on a server somewhere gathering dust

and it doesn't try to make you feel guilty for its isolation. it was never your responsibility to find it and interact with it and understand it. it's patient. it makes peace with itself

i'm happy with that process making it kind of timeless. there were never any references or details that demanded that it be read this week, or this year, or within this lifetime. i've always been fascinated by outsider art, including stuff that doesn't get found until after the artist has passed away

it makes MAKING art feel less urgent to me. to be able to make something, "put it out there", and then continue making it. i feel the URGE to get wrapped up in expectation and disappointment. to say, why did i make this if no one saw it? should i continue making it? if i continue making it, will resentment seep in to the text? what good are my good ideas if no one is looking at them?

i think there's a part of me that deliberately tries to avoid the pain of disappointment and unpopularity by expecting to be discovered long after my death. to say, well, wouldn't it be exciting if someone discovered my weird art blog or my unfinished book sometime in the future? i know of lots of comics and anime that have meant the world to me, that i didn't get to participate with in real time

still. it's all too possible to go too far with this sort of thing. i appreciate when this way of thinking let me work on art one piece after the next without stopping myself and forcing myself to try something different because this wasn't Doing Numbers. but doing it like this forever would cut me off from lots of wonderful experiences within my lifetime. to be able to learn what works and what doesn't. what's too difficult to parse, what's boring, what's annoying. unintentionally anyway. i don't mind making something difficult, boring, and annoying, but i rarely want to make something impossible to parse that puts you to sleep

when i was making art for myself, for my own needs, i'm glad i made it in a way that was criticism agnostic. and while i'd like to allow myself to maybe, advertise myself more, consider an audience more, i really want to retain the lessons i've learned in making patient art

idk. i want to push myself more this year ! because there's a major keystone of motivation in the back and forth conversation between audience and creator. i work faster when i know, specifically, that someone will see and respond to my work. and criticism plays a major role in becoming more effective at achieving whatever your art was meant to achieve. comforting someone, discomforting them, sharing a lesson, imparting a warning, or just helping them lose track of time safely in a world full of demands and danger

and then there's the money game. the "make something that will fund your next something" type game. make a portfolio of things that communicates what you're about, what your capable of now, that makes people imagine what you would make in the future if you're allowed to continue creating without starving to death. this basically runs in the opposite direction of my entire spiel about patient art, but i don't think it contradicts it. potentially, anyway

generally i think i've turned myself into that portfolio. when i talk to people, i'm showing them my Self as the thing i'm capable of. my problem solving, my comfort, my patience, my passion. i practice being valuable as a person and i hope sometimes that maybe that will be the avenue which sees my life get funded. "if you like talking to me today," i imply, "you should buy me dinner so that i am around to keep talking tomorrow!" is this normal? is this moral? join my patreon

#spitpost

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gothamitelove · 2 years

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Hiya ya, I think your headcanons are brill! Wondering if I could get a Gotham Riddler/Edward Nygma x reader headcanon, but reader works in the journalism industry, but like, advice columnist for Cosmopolitan or Vanity Fair, rather than boring “this person has been arrested” type of journalist. Maybe she has to write some sort of “what to buy your significant other for Valentine’s Day” type of article and reader seeks out Eddie’s help?

Sorry if this is too in-depth, my head runs away from me sometimes. Anyways, hope to hear from you soon -Elsie xx

hi!! i'm so glad you like my stuff! here ya go, i did my best!

gotham!edward nygma w/journalist!reader

ed's seen some of your stuff around- online, at newstands all around gotham. you're a rather well-known columnist, and he doesn't read your column religiously, but he does enjoy it when he gets a chance to see what advice you're giving this time around

he definitely enjoys your sense of humor, but also your down-to-earth way of helping people address their problems

but he never thinks he'll actually get to meet you. and then it actually happens.

i don't know how you got into his headquarters, but you did somehow, with that headstrong courage most journalists seem to have

this alone is impressive to ed, mostly because he does not leave his base undefended. if you managed to get past the guards and the multiple traps intended to stop you, he's got some more grudging respect for you.

but no seriously, why are you in here.

"i needed some help with an article," you say, shrugging apologetically. "and your people weren't helpful in getting me an audience with you. so."

"wh- an article?"

"yeah," and you shove the email from your editor at him. "something about valentine's day." (the article's working title is actually "valentine's day gift ideas for your s/o", but whatever)

ed arches an eyebrow, a little more willing to hear you out when you don't back down from his "i'm better than you" glare. "and why would you ask for my help?"

"i did some digging," you say, "and i discovered that that whole mess with the tetch virus and you falling out with oswald cobblepot was over a girl, basically. you have quite the interesting love life, and it's shaped gotham in magnitudes."

"my last girlfriend ended up dead," edward says dryly. "some might say that's not a good sign."

"well, maybe not for your behavior in relationships," you shrug, "but did you give her decent gifts?"

"i think so," he admits.

"see? and there we go," you say, hurriedly digging out your notepad. "start talking. what'd you give her exactly?"

you start coming around more for help with articles after that, and edward... well, he actually enjoys it. your problems aren't insane and don't involve gang wars. it's nice to deal with little, normal things sometimes.

(the company isn't too bad, either.)

i hope this was what you were looking for! i really enjoyed this prompt <3

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starryyyjoon · 3 years

Text

I, you | Kim Namjoon One Shot

word count: 8.2k

pairing: idol!namjoon x fem reader

summary: namjoon meets you again and he can't help but want you to look at him the same way he has all these years.

disclaimer: it's sort of written from y/n pov. kind of smut included, not too much but still. other then that, i don't think there's anything. it was written a long time ago so i don't clearly remember, sorry!

Namjoon walked in, followed by a few staff members and they occupied the empty chairs on the conference table and I smiled at him and the others. He looked great like always, he was in a navy blue hoodie and a khaki colored trouser, with his hair pushed backwards exposing his forehead.

There was something and nothing between me and him and it was too tiring to play pretend. "You look good", he remarked and I smiled at him. He's always being too kind, I looked like absolute shit, I hadn't slept in three days and my clothes were whatever was in my reach that I'd put on after showering and I rushed here.

I had met him before this level of success but I was merely an assistant director myself and we'd talked about Monet and his work together, he'd similar interests to mine but both of us didn't really get anywhere because of our timing and I believed it was for the good. He'd always expressed how he liked my vision and wants to work with me on something and I didn't believe my vision because what even was my vision that he could see and not me and after being this big I didn't really thought he'll even remember me until he hit my phone one day and here I was, at the label's office to discuss the details of his mixtape's music video.

"So, do you've something in mind?", I asked him and he pressed his back on the chair letting out a yawn, he seemed tired.

"Not really! I want it simplistic and not too hard to understand. I haven't thought about it or anything so I don't know, I would await what you propose", he softly said.

"I haven't heard the track because of--", he intervened, "--ah you haven't? You should hear it first", he said and I nodded.

"I would need to hear it", I told him, thinking about the lengthy talks with the illustrator already.

The staff then pin pointed about the budget, the do nots and other details and two of my team members who were seated beside me talked thoroughly in detail about the technicalities. Namjoon looked bored with all the talk that didn't interest him. He wasn't much different from before slightly bigger.

All of us stood up coming to an agreement when Namjoon asked me to walk up to his studio to hear the track and I asked my team members to go ahead first. I walked through the dark corridor behind him while he talked to someone on the phone, all the way to his studio. I didn't really hear what he was talking because I was invested in staring around the place like I hadn't seen a building before.

The walls were all dark and a comforting shade since I didn't like the sun anyway. It seemed like a night mode in real life.

His studio was the corner most, he typed the passcode in and stood aside gesturing for me to walk in, followed by him. He hung up the phone call and put his phone aside, switching the AC on. He sat behind the monitor while he switched it on and I went through my inbox.

"So, how have you been?", his deep tone, made me look up and I fidgeted to put my eyes on something other then him while he turned his chair around to face me.

"I have been okay-ish, like the projects I'm doing I'm satisfied with them so I guess it's kinda okay", I said and regretted it immediately, I don't even talk like this and he knows it.

"Not the work c'mon, you, your boyfriend, family, other things?", a lose smile hung on his lips and I looked at him. How can someone look like that?

"No boyfriend because you know no one can put up with this profession. I haven't slept in three days so I'm fucking annoyed and the work is too much that I don't have time for other things", I shrugged and he chuckled. I didn't want to think about guys, I barely had time for myself. Filmmaking was a time bound profession.

"I relate, trust me I do", he turned his chair back around, his eyes on the computer screen and I looked at him. I could see why he could relate, I mean of course he didn't had time either. I knew idol schedules enough to know how these things go. "Why didn't you come that day?", he asked me and my insides twisted.

"I was hoping you don't bring it up", I said in a small voice.

"Why not? I waited for you", he said without looking at me and I threw my head back on the couch thinking of the time when he'd asked me out officially and I didn't make it. "At least I deserve to know what was more important that you didn't make it", he looked at me and I closed my eyes shut.

"I had a flight, I got an exclusive food show travel experience with discovery and it was too good for an opportunity to miss", I let it out and took a breath in. I knew I could never leave work for a guy, any guy, or anyone as a matter of fact and as much as I'd thought about it on the plane...it all seemed for the better. He wasn't the kind of guy I could've had my regular thing with and I was too young to be serious.

"It was a good show", he told me. I could feel his eyes on me and I didn't flinch. I didn't regret it but his words made me feel guilty. My head was on the headrest of the sofa I sat on and my eyes were closed. My subconscious could feel his curious gaze on me.

"Look away Namjoon", I said and I could feel his gaze was still on me.

"Why didn't you call me when you got back?", he asked me and I looked at him.

"I didn't because our cultures differ, everything is poles apart--what's the point of discussing it now?", I asked him, slightly annoyed. He and I separately needed to focus on our careers and he knew it too damn well.

"Okay", he turned around again as his monitor showed a circle indicating that the programme he'd launched was loading. "It does makes me feel better that my better position in life doesn't changes your opinion on me. Quiet comforting", he said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice but I chose to ignore it. The last thing I'd be doing is fueling this feeling in him by discussing this useless thing which wouldn't make any difference whatsoever.

"Is this the reason you wanted me to do this project with you?", I asked him and he swiftly turned his chair around.

"No, I don't take all this for granted. I love the stuff you do. I'm pretty updated thanks to how active you're on your social media", he smiled and I couldn't shook the thought of seeing my psychotic episodes on my Instagram, Twitter...everywhere. I'm pretty weird out there.

"I love it, the stories", he flased his dimple smile before turning his chair around again and I felt his warmth, like he meant what he said.

For a second I was taken aback with how tall he was from me and how good he looked, he'd always looked good but he was more mature now and much more reserved. "I'll be calling you often because I won't send it for pre-production without your say on the concept", I told him.

"I'll look forward to a lot of calls", he said. "I'm sorry this is taking a while", he added quickly and for some reason I couldn't look away from him, whose back was visible to me.

"No, take your time", I said, crossing my arms against my chest. I really wished he was a regular guy just making music but then I didn't. I wouldn't want someone to wish that for me. He'd earned all of it and I knew it.

"Look away ___", he said slowly. I could feel his grin through his words and I looked away shaking my head right and left softly. "It's, yeah it's playing", he turned around as the music filled in the empty atmosphere.

It was a slow song with a really fast rap. It was how Namjoon was, he contradicted himself too much. I instantly knew it was his writing from the way the words went and the wordplay came into role. I couldn't help but analyze the song because I was supposed to shoot and sketch a music video for it and at times like this I didn't really get to enjoy the art for the art and I hated it.

"How was it?", he asked me, his eyes fixated on me as the music faded. I wanted it to last.

"The only problem with it is that it ends", I flashed a smlie at him and he shook his head throwing it back.

"That's too corny even for you", Namjoon rolled his eyes but I was being serious. "You know I appreciate heavy critics", he said.

"I didn't find anything to criticize, the writing is great, the composition fits and it has a catchy vibe to it. I think I would listen a song like that on a drive or something? In your case a bicycle but yeah! It's a good song", I summarized my opinion. "Do you like want a trendy video?", I asked him.

"Anything that you want to do with it", he said and I gently nodded. Since it was given to me, I couldn't stop thinking about what to do with it.

"Can you stop thinking about it while you're with me ___?", he chuckled and I looked at him taken aback for a second and then nodded with a soft smile pasted on my lips.

"Your fashion sense has improved", I remarked.

"You look casual", he teased me.

"I, I've no fashion sense. I just wear whatever is there", I told him.

"I don't think so, your Instagram says different", he said.

"It's for the show Namjoon", I said.

"You're really not the type to do that, please don't deceive me", he beamed before he turned his chair around again to minimize the current tabs on the computer.

"You're the last person I'd be deceiving--", my words were cut from an incoming call from one of the producers of one of the shows I was working on. "I need to take this", I told him and answered the call while he just gave me a gentle nod in response.

The producer had informed me about the issues related to casting and the final draft of the script and I knew I had to go.

"Guess I'll see you later, bye", Namjoon said warmly as he smiled at me. The thing was he just knew and that always stuck somewhere.

"Bye", I left.

________________

"I, for one, disagree. C'mon how do you even call it an end?", I threw my hands in the air as we discussed it for the millionth time. I liked Su-ho but his thoughts on GOT made me want to kill him. He is the only person I knew who was satisfied with how it ended.

"I think it was okay, c'mon, you have to consider that the novels didn't end and as compared to that I think it was pretty good", Su-ho claimed while he sat on the bean bag in front of me, pushing it comfortably.

"Don't even start with the novels--", my words were interrupted with the sound of the doorbell, "--they didn't even do a good job interpreting it and I am offended by that. Look there novels", I pointed at my bookshelf, showing him my GOT collection which he knew as I opened the door and my head bumped against Namjoon's chest as he took a step in.

He chuckled as he held the back of my head with one hand and pressed my forehead with the other and rubbed it gently to ease the pain.

"What's uh, what's that? Is it iron", I mocked, pointing at his chest while he let me go from his grip and took his shoes off.

"It can be", he said. "But why were you jumping around so enthusiastically?", he asked me as he seated on the couch in front of Su-ho, as he greeted him and Su-ho greeted him back.

"Game of Thrones heavy discussions", I sighed. "This is Su-ho who's illustrating the storyboard", I told Namjoon.

Su-ho was starstruck and it seemed like it'd take him a good minute to recover and Namjoon was obviously used to it. I didn't call him at the office because a lot of people would want to see him then and it could be exhausting plus he'd a time limit on his hands.

"You know him, ___?", Su-ho widened his eyes at me and I nodded, suppressing my laughter seeing his chaotic ass behave like this.

"A little", I said and I could feel Namjoon's gaze on me. "Maybe a lot", I rephrased. I could see by the way Su-ho looked at me that he needed answers. "Coffee?", I asked Namjoon.

"Oh yeah", he replied and I stood up. "I've thought of two concepts, Su-ho please brief him on it and if you want anything differently Namjoon, you can tell him", I told him as I marched towards the kitchen.

Should I use the regular coffee mugs or should I use the better ones? I mean it doesn't matter anyway but still, it kind of does? I don't know. It just comes to me, the over thinking.

Ah.

I could hear him and Su-ho talking about the concepts faintly and I was low-key proud because I did work hard on them. I opened the cabinet to take out the better coffee mugs.

This is what happens when you stop drinking milk and stop growing up. I rested my hands on the kitchen pavement thinking about how many shoes with heels I'd because of my height.

I wasn't very short but I wasn't my desired height too. It was sad. I was the right person to sell the tonics concerning height because my insecurity would make me buy it. I exhaled heavily and turned around to find Namjoon behind me.

"Let me", my hips pressed against the marble pavement while his body gently pressed against my front, I could spot the mole on his neck while he calmly took the box of mugs out. "Okay?", he whispered softly and I looked on without responding.

"Thanks", I told him, hoping he'd get away from me because this had me feeling some type of way. I won't admit what type of way. That makes it worse.

"Anytime", he clicked his lips, taking a few steps back as I stirred the coffee and poured it in three cups. Should've used regular ones.

"I like the quotes on that wall", he said as I handed him his cup, taking the other two. A wall of my house was covered in post-it notes and other stuff. Some print outs of Van Gogh and Frida's works alongside other things.

"Yeah that? Thanks", I said, as I gave the cup to Su-ho. "Did you decide on something?", I asked, as I sat down and Namjoon just beside me.

"Yeah, the first one. It was kind of okay, he made some alterations so I would send it to you by...maximum tomorrow", Su-ho told me. "But why did you call him here for just this?", he asked me.

"You seem so concerned about his whereabouts", I glared Su-ho . "I told him I could just email him but he insisted on doing it in person", I looked at Namjoon who took a long sip from his coffee.

"Yeah I did, don't worry I was absolutely free", Namjoon smiled at Su-ho and I could see Su-ho fanboy-ing.

"You're so in line today", I pressed my words.

"Shut up", Su-ho eyed me. I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug feeling its warmth.

After I talked to Namjoon for a while about the shoot and he explained to me about their company procedure and how they usually did things. I didn't like doing music videos or commercials, there's a lot of time you're bound by what the music video demands and you've to stick with that so that was that. I usually preferred either cinema like movies or dramas, I hadn't done much but I had done a few and travel shows were my preference.

"I'll see you next time then", Su-ho politely remarked looking at Namjoon and he smiled and gently bowed his head. I walked with him up-to the door. "I didn't, what the hell, you could've given me a heads up?", Su-ho whispered slowly to me as I leaned against the door.

"I didn't knew you were a fan", I said and he playfully hit me on my arm.

"I still can't believe it, you've to answer my hot questions next time", he said and I nodded.

"Okay okay", I closed the door shut behind me, taking a seat on the far side of the sofa me and Namjoon were seated on. He was scanning my bookshelf and I was looking at him.

"Literally 70% of it is fiction", he said. I read a lot of fiction and he read a lot of nonfiction.

"You should read fiction", I said and he looked at me slightly pissed.

"I do read fiction just not thar much", he pointed at my bookshelf. "If you've to recommend one, shoot", he said.

"Recommend, uh, the secrets of happiness", I said randomly and his face sunk in annoyance. "It's not a book talking about literal secrets of happiness, it has a story", I told him.

"Ah okay...I will try reading that. Let me take your copy", he said.

"No", I said back in a split second.

"I won't lose it, c'mon, ___", he said. I couldn't believe his testimony on not losing it.

"Fine, but it's annotated. You'll owe me big time if you lose it", I said and he nodded vigorously.

"Your place is great", he said looking around the house and I couldn't see why, I mean yeah maybe but not that I find it great if I think from his point of view.

"I'm barely here anyway. I pay rent for no reason", I kept the empty mug in my hand on the glass table in front of us.

"That was your friend though, Su-ho?", Namjoon asked as he kept his cup, followed by me.

"Oh yeah! I met him for work but then it's been a while since I know him, it's been years actually and he's a friend now", I said thinking about Su-ho. I don't know why I bothered explaining. It's been a good five years since Namjoon and I hadn't been in touch and there was a little catching up to do.

"You've always had a lot of friends, don't you", he sighed as he sat cross legged on the sofa facing me. I do have plenty friends honestly.

"Kind of", I shrugged. His gaze on me made me sit back in a more cautious way as I fixed my posture. "Namjoon...", I called out his name when the doorbell rung and I was irritated. "Give me a second", I stood up and walked up-to the main door.

It was my neighbor who's mother had left their house keys with me and he was here to take it back. He thanked me for keeping it and walked up to his own flat which was in front of mine.

I closed the door shut and Namjoon was standing by the balcony seeing a cactus I had grown since I couldn't grow any other plant because I was never home to take care of them in case.

"It's cute", he said as he picked the potted plant and stared at it for a little while and I stood behind him and watched him see it.

"You know your pupils dilate when you see plants", I said and he smiled to himself. He kept the cactus back in its resting place and stared at me. "What?", I asked him.

"You were going to say something", he said, his voice sounded deeper then usual for a second and I licked my bottom lip in haste.

"Oh that, you know the alterations you made? I will directly mail it to the staff and maybe cc you because it won't need a second check anyway. I've to get this done a little early since I've--", he turned towards me and I took a step back but there was barely any space and my back was pressed against the wall, "--what is it?", I asked but it came out as a whisper.

"Here", he dragged his index finger across my bottom lip and there was something on my lip. I didn't really see what was on there because of his presence so close to me. My heartbeat had fastened and I could feel it. Something I didn't want to feel.

"Thanks, I guess", I said slowly and he flashed his dimple smile at me and in that moment he seemed the opposite of the dominant he was a few seconds ago.

"Do you know you look really good?", he said, as his fingers ran across my ear touching the piercings one by one. I regretted having three all of a sudden. "And I didn't intended to do this but ___ I uh", he bent over a little, his lips a few inches away from my ear and his breath was falling on my neck.

"Namjoon", I said, trying to not look at him. I knew damn well I couldn't be able to control myself.

"Hmm", his voice was so small and I could feel goosebumps all over my neck. His gaze on me was strong and I had jitters in my stomach.

"I, uh--let's not okay", I put my hands on his shoulder as he pulled me more closer with a jolt and I gasped.

"Do you really not want to?", he asked me. It was a while since I was in this close proximity of someone like this but my subconscious kept telling me not to. "I don't understand what you find so undesirable about me", he took a few steps back and looked away.

What?

"Do you think I find you undesirable?", I asked him, pressing my lips suppressing my smile. I couldn't get how could he change roles in a span of few seconds.

"Yeah, it's pretty evident really", he sighed, looking at the the far side of the sky at the horizon and I saw him sulking.

"It's not that, are you fucking dumb? It's just you know you shouldn't start things you can't take care of", I said. For some reason I've always felt a little hesitant with him. "But you're desirable enough", I added.

"Sudden validation from you, ah", he clicked his lips in mockery and I felt bad. The last thing I wanted was to look like I was playing hard to get. I didn't feel competent enough in my heart. "Let me kiss you", he said, taking a few steps closer breaking the chain of my thoughts and I hated being so much in control and feeling a little out of place.

I was back to where I was a few seconds ago, me cornered and he put his lips on mine and my body automatically responded. He took over me in a second. My hands rested on his back and clutched the fabric. His hands travelled below my hips as he pulled me upwards and my legs wrapped around his waist. He didn't stop kissing me for one second and I didn't want him to, as he pressed his mouth harder on mine and I bit back a moan. I could feel the heat in my body and every vein seemed to electrify. He walked me up-to my bedroom like he knew which suddenly felt foreign to me as he laid me on the bed, breaking the kiss and I was breathless, panting for air.

I didn't had any resort in me to stop. I didn't want him to stop. I couldn't care more about whatever that had me concerned for a while. He watched me look at him and his lips curved in a smirk. "Should I stop?", he teased me taking a seat on the edge of the bed and I looked away from him to the right side, scoffing.

I pushed myself up, my hands at the hem of the lose white t-shirt I'd on and for a second I hesitated at the fact that he must've seen better flesh than mine but I pulled it upwards exposing myself in front of him as his eyes went everywhere. "Do you want to stop?", I asked him, as I crawled over to him. He didn't object as I sat on his lap and took his face in my hands. I looked in his eyes. He looked beautiful. I traced the outline of his skull, his jaw as I pushed his hair locks that were on his forehead behind. "Do you want to stop Namjoon?", I asked him again as he held me tight, giving me my answer.

He tugged at my neck with his mouth leaving a trail of gentle kisses down and I could feel my nipples startlingly prominent beneath the black lightweight bra I had on. I clutched his hair as he bit my neck suddenly and I gasped.

He pushed me on to him, nearer but there was barely any space for me to come close and I could feel him all over. He messily kissed me before groping my bottom and I-I cut a breath in. He would take turns and be gentler a second and rough the another. "Namjoon", I called out gasping which fueled him even more. He looked at me and smiled proudly at how he had me without doing much.

He flicked the straps of my bra shoving it down exposing my breasts and I could feel my nipples harden to the point it was painful. I wanted him. I wanted him to touch me, more. The way my body responded to his touch was almost funny, how quick, how wet.

I patiently unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off of him while he looked at me with a gaze I couldn't quite make anything of, he just looked at me while he let me work on him. My hands touched his chest and my eyes examined his torso, his skin was warm and his gaze on me gave me confidence like he wanted me back as much I wanted him.

I was forgetting my own desperation for his touch as my hand traveled behind his back, trailing down to his spine and he looked at me as he cut a sharp breath in and I felt good seeing him giving in to me. His arms surrounded mine unclasping my bra in a second and he threw it off on the floor.

I half expected him to grab me and grope my breast but he swept me in his arms as his vaguely pink mouth pressed against mine and instead of hastily grabbing me, his mouth simply rested against mine and it was worse, much more intoxicating. I, on instinct coiled my arms against his neck.

As my tongue demanded entrance and he smiled before letting me, and in a second, roles were reversed, the romantic was gone. He took control and pressed his mouth harder on me with his thumb and finger pressing my nipple and my nails dug deeper in his neck. "Joon...", I on instinct called out, as I gasped for breath but he didn't let me.

He was hard against me and I grinded next to him which seemed to please him while he left my mouth, burning with a wanting for more while my sex clenched as he took control of my body putting his arms around my back and they were free to go anywhere. I wouldn't dare stop him.

A second later, he laid me on the bed and hovered over me before taking my shorts off in a whirl and pushed my underwear off me that it didn't seem reusable. I anticipated his actions but he pushed a thumb into my bottom without no warning and I clutched the sheets, a yell escaping my mouth. My fingers curled meanwhile his other arm grabbed my breast cupping it and a second later his forefinger and middle finger slipped inside of me and my grip on the sheets tightened.

"Shh", he hissed in my ear and I hadn't realized a moan had escaped my mouth. My whole body rocked in less then a minute and I couldn't control my voice, I gasped for breath and I moaned even louder then before. "I didn't take you for a screamer ___", Namjoon seemed amused while embarrassment washed over me as I laid exposed in front of him.

"Let me go down on you", I told him and he looked taken aback as I pushed myself up.

"Do you really want to?", he asked and I shifted closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I would love to", I told him. "Do you want me to?", I asked him.

"Yeah, I mean yeah", he said when his phone rang echoing in the room and his face flushed into irritation as he looked at me and I nodded gesturing him to take it. He took it out of his pocket and answered it. With every word he spoke, his irritation grew. He hung up the phone call. "Where's the wardrobe?", he asked me and my eyes pointed behind him.

Namjoon opened my wardrobe and took out a very lose t-shirt of his choice from my stack of comfortable clothes. He held my arms and slipped the t-shirt on me, pulling me close. He stroked my face and he smiled in my face which forced me to smile as well.

"Am I suppose to expect something from you or should I forget this?", I asked him as his fingers tucked the few strands of my hair behind my ear.

"You're supposed to expect everything, don't dare forget it", he whispered in my ear, nibbling on it and I couldn't help but giggle. "I want to talk to you but I've to go now and I hate it", he smiled at me.

"Okay, go", I told him and he chuckled before letting me off him and he wore his shirt back on.

After seeing him off and taking a shower, I laid back on the couch in the living room thinking about everything that had happened. I didn't regret it, I wasn't thinking much about it anyway.

The guys I'd sex with or made out with, I disliked them because of their narcissism. I appreciated my ability to find guys that were a-grade assholes. I've always had this feeling that I am lacking in some sense with other people. I look normal, like I should but I get this insecurity when taking my clothes off.

I didn't knew what Namjoon thought about it and asking him would be weird. No one who knows me like him would think I am this insecure or anxious about this stuff but then a major part of it has to do with my aura, I guess?

________________

I took a bite of the sandwich that I held in my hand as I walked around the second set just nearby to the first one. I stood afar, taking a good look, even though the storyboard fits the sights I still need to frame out a rough sketch work in my head.

I took another bite staring at the beach and the path to it and then back to the set that we'd build up by man power. It was pretty accurate in my eyes but I wanted to hear from my assistant director.

I took the walkie talkie out from the pocket of my denim and pressed the centre button, "Jae-chan, where are you?"

In a second he reverted, "Ah sunbae I am near the gripper".

"Come to the road that leads to the beach", I said, before shoving the walkie talkie down in my pocket.

The sea met the sky at the far point of the horizon and how the world is full of these illusions which are not real we know but we still believe. After all there's beauty in things that you don't get. Vastness maybe?

Sea and sky — the two melancholic blues.

"Sunbae?", Jae Chan broke the chain of my thoughts and I glanced at him before looking at the sea. His breath was heavy, I could tell he ran here.

"You could have walked, Chan-ah", I said, smiling. He was really young and passionate about filmmaking but also a little silly. He's cute.

"Ah it's okay. Did you need something?", he asked politely and I shook my head. I liked the input of many people on the same thing, it showed the number of opinions that could centre around one thing that you make in a different context which is then perceived in another.

"Do you think this is accurate in terms of the story board?", I asked him and he seemed lost in thought.

"I would say slightly better because the storyboard is still animation and this is real so I would say better. I'm pretty sure it'll be good sunbae", he told me and I could feel a smile flush on my lips. "You are nervous, aren't you?", he asked me.

"Yeah", I wrinkled my nose, turning around to walk off. I patted Jae Chan's back and he started walking with me.

"You don't have to be, and oh, he's here", he said assuring me and I knew who he meant by he.

My mind automatically went to the day in my apartment. Namjoon had messaged me after but he got busier with his work and I am not a text-er plus I'd a lot of things to do before I left Korea. It was, I didn't knew anything and I didn't want to think about it. I hoped he'd pretend nothing happened, please. But I knew he won't.

I sighed and as I entered the main set, around the vanity and food truck, the manager and Namjoon's staff members greeted me. After that, I mean impractically I wanted earth to open and swallow me. Living is hard anyway.

I'd a flight on the weekend, I'd to pack and I'd to get new boots but I'm just dumb because I'm trying to think of other things. I need a new nail paint, do I? I looked at my nails which were painted black. Maybe grey?

"Sunbae?", Jae Chan shook me and I looked at him. He gestured me to look up front and Namjoon was right there looking like Namjoon.

"Hi", I awkwardly waved at him.

"Hi", he flashed his dimple smile at me. His dimple smile hits me.

"You can get the makeup and hair done, I've a few things to recheck", I excused myself. This is awkward. This is so awkward. I hate it.

Even though I had that awkwardness lingering around but we were nearing to the end of the shoot which went really good because everyone worked so hard. It was mostly one-takes and the lighting supported the whole setting making it so easier for us to finish.

Moreover, it was a while since I had done a music video so it felt good being back on a set like this. Namjoon looked really good with the styling and although I knew the outfits pre-shoot, he still looked better then I'd imagined him to look which enhanced the whole vibe of the music video. He owned earthly tones.

That's why casting and styling is so important. Very much. Makes a gigantic difference.

"What's wrong with you?", I didn't notice he was standing next to me with a small fan in his hands while we prepped for the last shot.

"What's wrong with me?", I asked him, as I adjusted the frame in the main camera. I didn't want this conversation especially right now, especially here.

"I mean...you knowww?", I could feel his stare while I shifted the camera, something is wrong with this.

"I don't know", I said, without looking at him. I was unintentionally making him mad and nothing else.

"I was really scared that you'd say this and see, I mean, why can't you behave normal when I mention anything about us?", he hissed near me and I looked around. Luckily there was no one in our proximity to hear this conversation.

"I-I, Namjoon", I exclaimed, vaguely pointing at the setting hoping we could do this later and I could explain that I would love us but he needs to understand that I won't even be in Korea as much as he thinks I would be and that's why it won't work out.

"I don't care", he eyed me.

"I do. I care, okay? There's no us to begin with and I know I was stupid enough to ask you what I should expect out of, what would you call it, we made out. That's that", I tried being really slow and I could feel annoyance in his sight.

"Made out! Okay, okay fine. I can't believe I deal with you. You're the one who doesn't text or call or even respond to it and that's bare minimum ___", he pondered and I internally rolled my eyes.

I was leaving on the weekend. I was always leaving. That's it. "I don't have to and I have a life Namjoon. I've been working non stop all this time. I don't expect you to understand", I said, standing up from my seat while I called for the head DOP from the walkie talkie.

"You don't want to be understood ___", Namjoon said, grabbing me from my arm and stopping me. He wasn't wrong. A few eyes snapped and I forced a smile immediately. "I like you, I like you a lot. Deal with it", he walked past me.

Deal with it.

As if.

Very abruptly, the last shot rolled in and it was over. The music video was done in a day. It was originally a two day sketch but we had to narrow it down to one day because of Namjoon's schedule and it was worrisome because it did seem impossible but things went smoothly and it was successfully over.

I told Jae Chan to wrap the filming site, though most of it was done while I was present. I picked my bag from a table to leave, kept right ahead from the vanity. Namjoon had left, I guess. I wasn't sure because after the last shot he was angry. He had his jaw clenched all that time, he barely managed to keep it out on the music video.

He was like this, his anger was pretty evident and that hadn't changed.

I like you. I like you a lot.

I couldn't wrap my head around that thought. Did he like me all this time? It sounded pretty crazy to me. I had never thought about anything with Namjoon. He was a friend I could like but I didn't, I had never expected anything out of my acquaintance with him anyway.

"You ate?", his deep voice made me look at him who stood at the steps of the vanity. He hadn't left yet.

"No", I said. He had changed into his normal clothes, the makeup was gone but he still looked great. His natural complexion was shining as the set lights fell onto his face. It made me surer how Namjoon needed someone who could be there rather then somebody who's never there.

"Come eat something", he said calmly. He looked much composed then before.

"I am not hungry", I stated just when he darted towards me. He held me by my forearm, dragging me into the vanity which was empty except for us. A few dishes were laid out on the table in front of the small couch.

"Eat and leave", he said, taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of the mirrors fidgeting with his phone while I quietly sat on the couch. I just wanted it to be over but I'd no appetite so I kept staring at the couple of Italian dishes which were pasta, carbonara I guess, rissoto and also jjangmyeong. "Just eat anything ___", he said, without bothering to look at me.

"I don't really have an appetite", I said, throwing my head back and looking at the ceiling of the vanity.

"What you've is a habit of skipping meals", he eyed me.

I looked at him. "Do you remember everything? Like literally everything?", I asked him as curiosity brimmed in my eyes.

"You don't?", he asked me back. "Well, for me, yeah I do. I did remember every thing but I should probably forget now. I didn't really asked to work with you because I wanted something but I can't say I didn't hope", he locked his phone and kept it on the space in front him. "I mean, we did had something. We did have something a few days ago. You can't exactly call me a friend and I've never seen you as one. The moment you walked in trying to fix the mess on the set since then till now I can't say I didn't hope you'd look at me the same way", he said, bringing all the memories back alive, but it was true, I never looked at him the way he'd wanted me to, hell, I couldn't believe it one bit. "It's true", he said, as if he just read my mind.

It was, it didn't made sense to me. How could he? Why would he? I uh, I think shit's wrong with me because even now I can't seem to focus on someone who confessed their feelings and that someone being Namjoon from all people.

I remember when I was one of the assistant directors under the director for one of the most low-key and low budget project. They didn't had many resources and our firm wasn't doing well either. We always had to come up with hacks, unknown locations for shooting...it was always so hard. We didn't had any respect in the industry.

It was two companies in one boat at the end of bankruptcy and we were so young and such good friends. I knew the rest of the members too but I kind of had a certain vibe with Namjoon. He could get me without having to speak.

I locked at him, his face was fixated on me and I could like him, in fact I did love him not romantically, I just did. I had a lot of love for him. He was caring for the people around him and I loved talking to him. He never once made anyone feel like he was a celebrity back then and a global celebrity now well yeah. He did deserve someone who could be here for him.

He stood up and walked towards me and my eyes followed him. He took a seat next to me and I could see he picked a bowl up but I didn't see which one because I couldn't stop looking at him. Namjoon took a significant amount and extended it to me and I looked at the noodles for a second and then at him. He just nodded and I ate it.

It was good.

"Thanks", I said, wiping the corners of my mouth with my fingers.

"Do you want me to feed you all the way or can you eat your own?", he asked me.

"I will eat", I told him and he gave me the bowl so I could eat on my own. "You ate?", I asked him and he instantly nodded.

"You're going somewhere, aren't you?", he asked me and I felt as if I've just been struck with something.

"Hmm", I said, my mouth almost filled. "And, I...I want to tell you something like adults and clear it. Namjoon you know my work and I am always not here, never. It's useless. Trust me on this, it's not like that but you know you'll need someone beside you and I can't be the one", I told him, calmly, before gulping water down.

"I know that but I'm okay with it. In fact, we would go hand in hand better because I can't take you out on exotic dates as well. This is what you get", he vaguely gestured at the vanity and I chuckled and he warmly smiled at me.

After a second, I spoke much seriously then before, "It will be hard and you know that. It'll be frustrating. You could hate me".

"If you've tired it with someone before, I am not exactly happy knowing this, but you shouldn't compare me with some random dude with a peculiar taste in leather clothing", he rolled his eyes, shifting his back comfortably.

"Hey! Don't be mean just because you see stuff on my Instagram", I scoffed and he maintained his long face.

"No really, what do you take me for? You think you won't have time for me? I won't have time for you", he went on.

"Namjoon", I dragged his name. His tendency to be sarcastic at odd moments is unmatched.

"Don't call my name like that", he stared at my eyes.

"Like what?", I asked him.

"Like you can love me", he said.

"I...you don't have to be like this", I said, keeping the empty bowl on the table.

"Give me a chance then, try it out. I would wait for you I promise", Namjoon took my hand in his and covered it with his warmth.

"Will I be able to...wait?", I looked away from him, thinking about it so hard.

"___ don't think too much. I promise, we'll be fine", he said, his hands travelling to my waist and before he could grab it. I screeched closer to him. I cupped his face and attached my lips to his, while his hands held on my body.

________________

My relationship with Namjoon was better then I imagined it. I tried my best to be there for him and he was surprisingly almost there for me but it wasn't exactly easy.

It was months and months of hardships and Namjoon was more needy then I thought him to be, he needed a lot of assurance. I don't understand the notion that he holds of everyone wanting me so he needs to be extra careful. I still don't get that his insecure ass doesn't trusts his own members, he won't let me meet them at all.

He was really different. He shifted from dominant to romantic in one second. I loved that. I kind of missed it so much.

He held my hand I could feel it by the way his skin felt against mine, he whirled me around and in a second his hand rested on my waist as he urged me to walk next to him. He was in a perfect disguise and I looked at him. I could tell he was smiling beneath his black mask.

"See, this is why I don't trust other guys! How could you let someone do this to you in the midst of the road in a foreign country?", he asked me.

"No stranger would confidently do this to anyone in a foreign country", I playfully hit him on his leg and he stopped, pretending to be gravely hurt. "I can't believe you", I looked at him as I went with his act. I supported him in standing completely. In a second, he intertwined his fingers with mine.

"I missed you", he softly whispered in my ear.

"I missed you too", I whispered back, softly. I pulled him in an empty alley and pulled his mask down. "I need you to do something", I told him, nibbling on his ear and I could feel my skin feel the heat that it yearned for since a couple of months before him going on tour.

"Right now?", he asked surprised.

"Yeah, right now", I said and I could feel him harden against my pelvis.

"You are...so, not right now. Let's go to your hotel room. I'm still famous", he pulled me closer and I chuckled. He turned me around, pulling his mask down, he kissed me hard. His mouth pressed against mine. I held him tightly and he gasped. "I love you", he softly said before pulling his mask up.

"I, you", I held his hand again.

#bts #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Where The Wild Roses Grow - An August Walker Story

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Fern) Summary: Don't screw the crew? This doesn't work for August Walker Warnings: Smut, Sex, 18+, NSFW, unprotected sex, oral sex mentioned, kinda soft August This is kinda AU, because August survived the events of MI:Fallout Unbeta'ed! English is not my mother tongue, so consider yourself warned Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker (but he owns me...) Credits: Pics for the header from Pinterest

A big thank you to the wonderful @legendarywizarddetective Honey, thanks for your support, your advice and your opinion. You have no idea, how much I appreciate your help <3 xxx

tag list: @lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights

You can find the next parts and my other fics on my Masterlist

~~~~~

Chapter 1

Fern

I'm bent over my desk, still recovering from my orgasm, while August is railing me hard from behind to reach his own climax. It doesn't take him long. He comes with a suppressed growl that turns into a satisfied moan slowly. As usual he pulls out right after, gives me a playful slap on my naked butt and stuffs his dick back into his pants with a smug smile.

He never undresses to fuck me and he never asks me to get naked. He just hitches up my skirt or dress, pulls my panties out of the way and enters my pussy with his fingers, his tongue or his dick. My clothes have turned into some kind of code with time. If I wear trousers I know he won't touch me, so if I choose to wear a pair of jeans it's my way to say no. If I wear a skirt or a dress he knows he can have me if he wants to. It doesn't happen every day or on a regular basis, sometimes we fuck five days in a row and sometimes we don't for two weeks and that's part of its charm.

Whenever it happens, it is always quick and dirty and pretty good. Sure, there's no tenderness, no cuddling, hardly any kissing but it still is great sex. Satisfying and uncomplicated, no strings attached. I never thought I could enjoy physical love without being emotionally involved, but with August it works somehow. I don't even know how it happened, can hardly tell how this started.

I used to work at the CIA as a team assistant, he was THE notorious agent, August "The Hammer" Walker, effective, discreet, intimidating, mysterious, larger-than-life. Yeah, I know, this alone sounds sexy as hell and you haven't even seen him. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair, blue eyes, face like an angel but his signature mustache and the three-days-stubble giving it a dangerous touch. We got along quite well but it was all strictly professional back then. He always kept a distance, not only from me but from everyone and I knew he was well out of my league anyway, even if we hadn't worked together.

After the disaster with Ethan Hunt I was shocked, devastated even, because I'd never expected him to be a traitor and I was sure I'd seen the last of him after the events in Kashmir. To my big surprise he contacted me a few weeks after. He had somehow survived the fight with Hunt and the explosion and bailed himself out of this mess. I still don't know how he made it, what or who he sold to the government but it must have been a huge deal because they cleared his record and he was free to do whatever he wanted under one condition, he had to leave the country. He chose to make a fresh start in London and to set up a cyber security business with a partner. This partner is Peter Brooks, who is an ex-hacker August knows from some CIA investigations, and they are the perfect team -August sells security, Peter programs it, August is responsible for the hardware, Pete for the software. And a good team needs a team assistant and that was the point where I got involved.

I don't know why he asked me of all people, maybe because he knew I was unattached and because we had already proven that we worked together well. I asked him several times for his reasons but he always shrugged it off. I was hesitant about taking his offer, of course I was, I didn't trust him anymore, he had been public enemy number one and to be honest I was scared. I was afraid of him, of what he could be up to, of the potential for violence he was radiating and his criminal energy in general, but he offered me lots of money, a wonderful apartment in Shoreditch and he promised me that he would never expose me to any kind of danger, that he'd changed and that I would never have to do something illegal for him. I believed him, mostly because I wanted to. I was desperate to add a little adventure to my boring existence and earning much more than an average assistant plus living in one of the greatest cities in the world seemed to be an attractive prospect. Up to now I haven't regretted my decision.

August has kept his word. There are no signs that the company is involved in any illegal deals and as far as I know he is not scheming or hiding something. Actually I'm quite sure of that because we all know that the federal authorities keep a close eye on him and his little business. Moreover we've got to know each other quite well and I imagine that I would know if he was hiding something from me. Maybe I would, maybe it's just wishful thinking but I tend to say that I can judge him quite well by now. That's not surprising actually, considering how much time we spend together, 12 to 16 hours a day, five to six days a week.

How did the sex thing begin you ask? I don't really know. Maybe it was the glances he started to give me, the attention I wasn't used to. I just started to feel good around him, sexy and wanted. Of course it's flattering that a handsome man like him shows interest in someone like me, even if it's just physical.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. He travels a lot, is away for days or weeks sometimes and I know he doesn't end up lonely in his hotel room every night. But we have kind of a don't-ask-don't-tell-policy and I'm fine with it.

The first time we fucked was a good year ago and 9 months after I came to London to work for Walker & Brooks SecTec. I wore one of my summer dresses, dark blue with white dots, plain but cute, and August complimented me on my outfit several times that day. He had never done this before. When I was just about to leave he suddenly stood in the doorway of my office and looked at me with a feral grin that gave me goosebumps. "What?" I asked him with a frown.

"Nothing. It's just...you better not wear that dress again at work." His grin turned into a smirk.

"Why? You said you like it." I looked down at my body, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden.

"Right. I like it a little too much, Fern."

I gave him a sheepish smile. "What's that supposed to mean?" He came closer, standing right in front of me now.

"It means you look so delicious in that dress, you're giving me a hard time trying to control myself around you."

I was speechless in that moment and pretty sure that he was making fun of me. In my whole life there hadn't been a single man that had problems with his self control around me. I'm just not the kind of woman that drives a guy out of his mind.

"That's not funny."

"It's not supposed to be funny. I'm serious."

He looked me deep in the eyes, his face was just inches away from mine. Suddenly he grabbed me by my waist and spinned me around, pulling me close to him. "Your ass is so juicy in that dress, your waist so small, your breasts so beautiful, I just can't stop thinking about touching you." He whispered all this into my ear and then I felt his lips on my neck. They brushed the sensitive flesh just lightly. He did nothing more for a moment, and I knew he hesitated to give me a chance to turn him down, to say no to him. I didn't. I said yes that day. I let him kiss my neck. I let him squeeze my ass. I let him caress my tits. I turned around and kissed him and I moaned into his mouth under his touch. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted me and it was the greatest turn-on. All the dirty things he told me, the magic his skilled hands worked on my body, the sexual energy and the dominance he was radiating from every pore - I was putty in his hands, willing to give him everything...everything I had craved since I'd moved here. I was touch starved, there hadn't been a single date or something because my whole life was like eat-work-sleep-repeat. He fucked me on my desk that day. Standing between my legs -my dress hitched up, my panties lying in the corner of the room- he thrust his big dick into my needy pussy with force and without mercy, giving me one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

***

August

Fern. I know she hates her name, but if you ask me, it's beautiful. Old fashioned in a good way, special, innocent and very pretty. Just like the woman who bears it. You wonder if that's the reason why I asked her to work for me? Because she's so pretty with her long honeyblond hair and the big brown eyes? You think I hired her because I wanted to fuck her right from the start? I'm sorry to disappoint you but you're wrong. I didn't see her that way in the beginning.

When we worked together for the CIA she was in a relationship anyway. We never talked about it, it was all strictly professional back then, but she had this picture of a guy on her desk, a good looking man with a boyish smile and the aura of an intellectual snob. Eventually the picture vanished and wasn't replaced by a new one so I assumed she was unattached, which was one reason I considered her to be suitable. But the main reason was that she is simply very good at her job. Of all the assistants we had she was the best organized and structured one, she is smart and her quickness is extraordinary. She's friendly and sociable but most of all she is loyal and has integrity. In the old days you'd called her virtuous and that was exactly what I was looking for.

I knew to start a new life, a life as an upright citizen, I'd need help. Help from someone like her, not from someone like my partner Peter who struggles with keeping things legal too. To put it in a nutshell, I needed a moral compass and she was the right woman for the job and she still is. Keeping us on track, guiding us without even knowing it just by her natural sense of justice. Of course it was hard to convince her to trust me and to make her give up her life in the states and to begin anew in London and when she finally agreed it was a big relief.

Yeah, yeah, yackety-yack, you say? But why did you start to fuck her?

Well, the not so flattering answer is, I did it because I wanted to know if I could. Peter said no. Never ever would a smart woman like Fern fuck her boss, he said when we talked about it one boozy evening. The two of us were celebrating a huge deal and I said something like I'd love to give Fern a special reward for her good work and he laughed out loud when he realized what I meant.

Well, I love a good challenge and there was something in her eyes, a gleam, a spark, that told me she was looking for an adventure, for anything to make her life a little more exciting and I was willing to give her what she was craving. And so it began.

It was supposed to be a one-off, just to prove to myself that I was able to seduce her but after the first time I wanted more. The way she let me fuck her and the way her body responded to mine was just too good to not do it again. She knows it's just sex, I didn't even have to explain it to her, it is obvious. As I said she's a quick thinker and she knows what it means that I don't even strip off my pants, that I just get out my dick to rail her.

Sometimes I eat her pussy before I fuck her, sometimes I make her ride my fingers, but I never undress myself or her. And she doesn't seem to care, she likes it and she never asks for more. She just wants a good orgasm and that's what she gets. She cums easily, she's clearly not one of the women who need a lot of time to have an orgasm, who need a long foreplay and cuddles afterwards and that's great because I'm not the right man for this kind of intimacy. I'm just a man who wants a good, satisfying fuck. I don't need love, I just need sex.

And today she's just given me that. After making her come with my mouth I fucked her hard on her desk and it was great. But now it's back to business, we have a job to do and Peter will be back from his lunch break in a few minutes. Of course he knows what's going on but we never fuck when he's around. I would because it's none of his business what happens behind closed doors but Fern is scared that he could walk in on us. "I could never look him in the eyes again, August. I swear I'd die from embarrassment." That's what she said when I wanted to have my ways with her in my office with Peter working next door one day. Virtuous, as I said. Luckily she's not such a prude when we're alone.

"Here's the Henderson file, I signed the contract. Send it back to them please." She nods and takes the papers from my hand. She's sitting behind her desk, the one I just fucked her on, and I love the thought that my cum is dripping into her panties right now. She never reeks of sex though, I guess she always has fresh panties in her handbag and she washes her pussy in the bathroom when we're done. Well organized and always prepared, that's Fern.

"I need to leave a little earlier today if that's okay. I have an appointment." She looks at me with a smile that I don't return. I hardly ever smile and she knows it. She doesn't take offence and keeps on giving me her sweet smiles that often brighten up my busy days and I appreciate it.

"Sure. What kind of appointment?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Curious much, huh?"

"It's job related...ex agent...you know how it is." I grin and turn to leave because I don't expect an answer.

"Piano lessons." Her voice makes me stop and turn around.

"So you finally decided to do it."

"Yeah. I thought a lot about what you told me. That you're never too old to learn stuff and to start with something new. So I decided to give it a try."

"That's good, Fern. I'm sure you're gonna nail it."

"Thanks, August. To be honest I'm pretty nervous. I still think I might be too old to learn it properly."

"You're only 32 and you don't have to become the next Rachmaninoff."

She laughs and it sounds as clear as a bell. "I'll keep that in mind." "Good girl."

~~~~~~

#august walker #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #mission impossible fallout #august walker au #august walker fic

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Sparkle

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle)

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: It’s so fluffy!

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: thank you @rmtndew for the edit of Sy in glasses :D More Sy and Wispy? Why yes!

Henry Cavill Master List

“Uncle Sy,” Annie giggled at her uncle, as he pulled a face. “Sit still.” Her voice going firmer.

Beside her, Willow had her hand on her hips shaking her head at their uncle. “Uncle Sy, we need you to stay very still.”

“Fine, fine.” He gave in sitting statue straight, still as could be.

“Close your eyes, please.” Annie instructed.

Doing as he was asked, Sy closed his eyes and leaning against the couch to support his back. Cross legged on the floor, a mound of pillows under him, he fought the smirk that kept threatening to creep onto his face. The two little girls painting the floral scented mud, clay, paint? Whatever the cool, thick stuff was onto his face. Around his beard, across his cheeks and forehead. Sy felt the soft brush that Aimee had handed them against his skin.

“You know Sy,” Aimee's voice greeted him, yet his eyes remained closed, “this stuff is actually pretty good. It might even help brighten that complexion of yours. Tired and sunburned was so last year.”

Snorting, Sy shook his head, both nieces scolding him for moving while they tried to apply the mask. Directing him to pucker his lips, Willow stood in front of him, a glob of lip moisturizer on her brush, she slapped it on spreading it thickly against his red chapped lips. The girls were taking good care of their Uncle Sy.

At least they wanted to do it at home this time. Sy was unsure of the product quality, but the service was far better and cheaper than when he'd taken them to an actual spa. Now that had been a sight, the look on the woman's face when the giant, bearded man in boots strode into the salon with the two little girls in tow. Despite the initial shock, Sy had to hand it to them, those ladies were magical.

He'd left feeling like his hands, feet, and face had been kissed by angels and butterflies. Hell, he'd even let Willow and Annie pick out a polish for his toes. Sitting in the chair chatting with the woman painting his toes, while his nieces had watched from their own pedicure chairs, Sy learned that men coming in to dote on their daughters and nieces wasn't really all that uncommon. He, however, was one of the first to ask for Pompeii Purple toes. The shade had really brought out his eyes.

In his sister's living room, Sy chuckled when Willow announced that he absolutely needed to trim that scraggly beard of his. In their life time, neither of his nieces had ever bore witness to their uncle without his beard. He liked it too much to part with it. Besides, the women loved it. Clearing his throat, Sy opened his eyes, a mocking frown on his face.

“Don't you dare touch my beard, understood bub?” He smirked. Willow nodded and Annie, standing just out of sight giggled. “There will be no cutting of my beard, until I say so.”

“Oh come on, Sy.” Aimee teased from the kitchen. “You could use a trim,” she winked at Annie.

“I would prefer to do it myself, thank you sister dearest.” He winked at Willow, a near impossible task with the clay beginning to set on his face.

“What if we just make it pretty?” Annie piped up, shuffling into the room with a hairbrush and bows in her hands. “Can we?”

“Please, Uncle Sy.” Willow pulled out the puppy dog eyes. Bouncing on her tip toes with excitement.

Playfully grumbling, Sy waited a minute or two. Letting the little girls get antsy before agreeing. Under some conditions. Nothing but a comb and some pink sparkly bows went into his beard. If they so much as tugged the wrong way, Sy was combing it himself. His beard was his pride and joy, right after his Wispy. He'd worked hard over the years to grow this bad boy.

“Gently,” He reminded them, lifting his chin for Willow to gingerly take the comb through his thick beard.

Climbing onto the couch behind him, Annie sat with her legs crossed gently rubbing a hair brush through his growing curls. A full out pamper day wasn't entirely bad. Enjoying his “spa treatment”, Sy winced when he heard Aimee giggling like a child on too much sugar. He knew his sister well enough to know that this was not going to be good.

“Aim, what in the hel-ck are you doing?” Sy asked glancing at his sister. Her phone poised as she giggled and shrugged.

“I thought ma might like to see. Maybe fire one off to the boys. You still in touch with the Major? Show him what retirement does for ya?”

“You wouldn't dare,”

“Send one to the Major? No. But I would send it to ma and everyone else we know. Come on Sy, you're adorable. You should let me share this on that mommy blog, it would be a hit.” She laughed. “Former Army Captain attacked by Girl Scouts.”

Sy replied with a grunt. More than one single mother, and a few not so single, on that damn blog Aimee was part of had themselves hot and bothered for the youngest Syverson. Every time Aimee mentioned her brother, at least one woman would ask if he was seeing somebody or how he liked children, who weren't his. Sy liked children fine, but he had no interest in taking on any to parent.

“Leave Uncle Sy alone,” Willow pouted, as she put the last bow into his beard. “Don't be mean, mommy.”

“I wasn't being mean, baby girl. Uncle Sy and I were teasing. Now, why don't you finish up those bows and help him wash his face. You can't leave the mask on too long, remember.”

“Oops,”

“It's okay bub,” Sy pulled away from the hair styling by Annie. “You ladies clean up a bit out here and I will go clean my face off.”

Striding down the hall, Sy could feel the clay on his face hardening and drying. If nothing else his pores would be flawless for a few days. Chuckling as he went, he could hear Annie and Willow in the living room. No doubt discussing their next plan for their uncle's beauty treatment. If he had to, there was a lovely yellow nail polish that he'd been eyeing in the box of tricks. It may not be the right season for yellow, but it would surely make the hair on his big toes really pop.

In the bathroom, he grabbed a wash cloth and turned the taps. Allowing the water to reach a nice, warm temperature he began scrubbing the dried clay away from his face. The bows in his hair and beard were a sight to behold. Admiring the handy work, Sy stood for a few seconds looking at the man in the mirror. The one grizzled, gruff, hard as nails and fearless Captain was reduced to a soft and gentle giant.

He loved spending the time with the kids, allowing them to have their fun, before Uncle Sy packed up and drove back across town. It was no wonder people were forever asking him when he'd have his own. Ah well, it was better this way. Sy enjoyed the company of the kids, but all the time and he would be even more grizzled and cranky than he was when he was stationed over in the desert.

Being home had it's perks, like getting to be with his family whenever he wanted. Having sleepovers with the kids, whenever Willow decided that he was lonely in his house. Or how she was forever trying to set him up with any woman they came across, while he had her out. That one was less and less cute, especially as she had somehow been targeting only married women lately.

The last thing Sy wanted was to get his ass kicked by some woman's husband or wife, for hitting on their wife because some kid said she was pretty. Shaking his head, he finished checking himself in the mirror to make sure he had all of the clay off.

Cleaned up and refreshed Sy joined the girls in the living room.

“Ladies, what's next?”

“Lunch!” “Make up!”

Laughing at their very different ideas, he nodded to Annie. “I agree lunch is the much better idea, make up can be after.”

“But mommy said we could go out for lunch. You can't go out unless you have a proper face on.” Willow pouted. Annie sighed. Her cousin had a point.

“Girls,” Aimee spoke, she was about to do everything in her mom power, to get Sy out of this one. As amused as it would be, seeing her brother go to lunch in a full face of make up.

“No, no she's right.” Sy nodded in agreement. “Aim, why not let Annie do your make up and Wispy can do mine. Then we'll all be ready for lunch, hel-ck, I'll even pay. Treat all of my girls.”

“Yeah!” The cheers went up from the girls.

Aimee, rolling her eyes and making a mental note to kill her brother later on. She would never forgive him, nor forget. Some day, she would get him back. This is when she should suggest wearing their best dresses – Sy included. Instead, she'd pay him back when he least expected. Maybe the next time, she'd insist they go for lunch wearing some over the top princess costumes.

Sy chuckled, what did they have to lose? At 11 years old, Annie was more than capable at putting together some make up. Willow was eccentric with her colour palate, but Sy wasn't worried much about that.

“Mommy, please. Please, we can all do our make up and go for lunch.”

“I hate you,” Aimee whispered passing her laughing brother, sitting down on the floor. “Okay, girls, let's get to it. Then we can make Uncle Sy take us for the best lunch, we've ever had.”

“Drive thru at Burger King isn't that fancy,” laughing, Sy nudged his sister with his elbow.

“Oh, but Sy if we have our best faces on, we need something better than cheap burgers in a bag. I was hoping maybe we could go to Janet's.”

It was Sy's turn to roll his eyes and stifle a groan. Of course Aimee would insist they go inside to eat. Saturday was the busiest day of the week for the small diner. Whatever, Sy was man enough to take it. With more confidence than anyone had ever seen, he would walk into that diner, head high, and his beard bows sparkling. The things he did to keep these children happy.

If it meant buying a hundred ponies, wearing full make up, and walking across a floor of legos – Sy would do it all to see these kids smile.

“I love Janet's!” Willow squealed dancing on her tiptoes, nearly poking her uncle in the eye with the eye shadow brush she was using. The hot pink creme shadow she had chosen for him was really going to pop with his dark beard. “Uncle Sy, please. Please can we go? You said that you would take me there the next time we went for lunch, you said that I could have a big sundae and...”

“Sy?” A sideways glance at her baby brother, Aimee puckered her lips for Annie to apply some lipstick. Offering the kids ice cream as a meal wasn't a crime, but it would explain why they sometimes came home bouncing around like mad hornets in an old coke can.

“Wispy, you're not supposed to tell your ma that I let you at ice cream as a meal.”

“Sorry, but can I?”

“Maybe for dessert, you can Annie can shade a giant sundae.” Aimee reasoned.

“Fine, but the next time we go....” Staring at her uncle, Willow pouted.

“Whatever you want, bubs.” Smirking at his sister, Sy conveniently pointed to the blush in the bag, asking Willow if she thought the orangeish colour would work for him. “Whatever you want.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part II/VII)

"candy floss"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, feels, brief mention of Fred x Reader ig?

A/N: I decided to name the parts bc why the fuck not so keep an eye on the titles 👀. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue :the aftermath

Part I : sleepless nights

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The moment the last group of customers decided it was time to call it a day and exited the shop, I left the till counter and grabbed my wand from my pocket, instantly turning the sign in the door so it could be read from outside 'closed'.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the multicolored wooden rail.

I was drained.

The shop helped our minds to get distracted and stray from the grief, yes, but it was also exhausting.

We had been subconsciously overworking ourselves to the point where it was borderline self-destructive.

It didn't help that I was throwing myself into comforting George, either. I could not be blamed for doing that, though; he was broken.

A part of me, the rational one, knew he would pick up the pieces and build himself up again, it would just take a lot of time.

There was another part of me, though, that depressed, drained part, that was beginning to think he would never heal by himself —maybe he wouldn't heal at all— but still held onto the hope that, if I tried hard enough, I would be able to mend what had been broken in him.

A terrible idea, really, because I started to dismiss in its entirety my own miserable, damaged state.

And George, ever the caring, sensible one, would have noticed that; he would have made me realize I was not doing nearly as well as I thought, he would have talked some sense into me, but he wouldn't— he couldn't, because George was lost in an ocean of grief, trying so hard not to drown that he wasn't able to notice I was trying to aid him from my very own sinking boat.

It also seemed to be working; he was more animated, slept more soundly, and his smile was a bit brighter even —at least the one he had for me.

"Rough day?" My eyes, which I didn't know I had closed, fluttered open at George's voice.

"Very."

He walked to me with a tinge of guilt in his face. "You know we can switch places, right?" I had been working as the public face of the shop since we had reopened, and George had taken on the task of doing the paperwork and shippings instead, showing up from time to time to help me and to let people know there was still a Weasley running the business.

I had been the one to suggest this, since I knew George had compromised with reopening only because of me, and he was clearly not ready to put up a sociable, positive attitude for dozens of people every day.

"Nah, it's fine like this." I assured him with a reassuring smile.

He measured me with his eyes for a second; I couldn't really tell if he saw through me or not. "So I was preparing the today's shippings," he rocked a tiny purple basket I quickly recognised in front of me. "I found this in the back of the stockroom."

"Are those—?"

"Candy floss cupcakes, yes." A year and a half ago we had bought five baskets of candy floss cupcakes from Honeydukes per George's request in order to unsuccessfully try and implement them.

"Are they even edible anymore?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope so?" He chuckled too, tearing the film covering the sweets. "Thought we might as well finish them."

My eyes travelled from the basket to him and viceversa before stating, "well I'm hungry so..."

"Same here." He was the first one to pull out a pastel colored cupcake, though he handed it to me. "Wanna get food poisoning together?" Laughing, I gave him a nod as he grabbed his own cupcake. "At the count of three?"

"One"

"Two"

"Three." We said in unison right before taking a bite of our respective madeleines.

I frowned at its surprisingly good flavour. "Am I delirious or are they actually edible?"

"Dunno," he shoved the rest of his cupcake into his mouth with a shrug. "maybe we're just starving."

"Go big or go home, I guess." I finished my cupcake before leaning on the basket to pick another one. My head snapped up with my brow quirked when I heard a soft chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing." George shook his head, motioning at the stairs. "Shall we sit down?" I followed his lead, sitting on the stairs and waiting for him, who had stepped towards the drinks aisle to grab a couple of juice bottles, to do the same.

We stayed there, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence until the basket was empty and our eyelids threatened to shut.

"I think we should head back to the flat." He spoke, leaving the half empty juice aside so he could stretch.

"I'm gonna learn how to cook." I stated, getting up. "We can't get by based on most likely expired sweets and whatever is in the Leaky Cauldron menu."

"Aight." He mimicked my actions, picking up the stuff we left on the stairs. "We will learn the basics tomorrow." He got behind me and began to gently push in the flat's direction. "But now we're gonna get some sleep, miss."

I would be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't pick up when his hands landed on my shoulder blades and made their way to rub both my arms reassuringly.

I would be lying if I denied I leaned back when he did that, letting myself get closer to his chest.

And I would definitely be lying if I said I didn't crave going back to my room so I could cuddle him all night.

One Week Later

"—right in the cauldron, love." I pointed at the cauldron besides me, giving a sweet smile to the kid in front of me, visibly going to be sick thanks to the free sample of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Y/n!" I spun around at the loud calling of my name above the shop's racket. I was able to discern a long, red mane flowing fast towards my position right on time for the owner to wrap her arms around me.

"Glad to see you too, Ginny." I laughed, trying not to lose balance due to her enthusiasm. "How come you're here?" I questioned, pulling away.

"We heard you were open." Harry walked up to me, appearing from behind the girl, "And thought we'd pay a visit to our friends, right?" Ginny nodded, looking around while Harry gave me a quick, yet comforting hug. "Where's George?"

I motioned up to the small office, redirecting the couple's eyes to the second floor. "Doing paperwork—AH!" I jolted when a pair of hands tickled my sides, my head snapping to see the towering ginger standing behind me. "Speaking of the devil."

"I thought I saw Gin through the window," George explained, his hands lingering on my waist for long enough to his sister to stare, before pulling Ginny into a tight hug. "And came down to check if she was distracting my employee."

"You got her all bored here, mate." Harry pointed out, a light joking tone in his voice.

"And you're the one supposed to help with that?" George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Pfft... What a world we live in." With the said, he gave the boy a side hug. I heard Harry murmur an 'We missed you' before they pulled away with a pat on the shoulder.

My gaze landed on the youngest Weasley, whose welled up eyes were trained on her older brother's half smile. I only averted my eyes and waited for her to discreetly wipe away the unspilled tears while Harry and George catched up.

By the letters she had sent me, I reckoned the last time she had been near George, he had been lifeless; seeing a glimpse of who was once one of the most cheerful, funny and charismatic people in her life, was probably poignant to Ginny.

I hadn't realized she had moved closer until I didn't hear her soft voice. "Thank you." I offered her a confused smile, though deep down I knew what she meant.

Two Days Later

George was having one of those days.

We both knew it was coming soon; it had to happen sooner rather than later, since he had been in a surprisingly good mood for almost a week. I suspected seeing Harry and Ginny had brought back the events of the Second of May.

I suggested to close the shop for the day, since he was unable to move out of bed; he refused to do so, but I convinced him to stay in the flat and rest —it was Tuesday, anyway; I wouldn't have to handle many customers.

Due to that, when I saw Hermione, Ron, Bill and Fleur entered the shop, it was understandable that I hadn't become the happiest person in the world.

I greeted them, there were hugs, kisses, and even a joke or two, and when Bill asked about George, I excused him without giving much detail.

They understood.

Fleur was the one to restart the conversation, lightening a bit before requesting a tour for the shop, since she had not yet been there.

It was when we reached the love potions that Hermione, using the fact that Fleur was very much interested in the product, held my hand and pulled me aside.

"So... how are you doing?" The frown in her face, the fact that she was whispering, the squeeze her hand gave mine, let me know she had read me the moment her eyes met mines.

I sighed with a shrug.

"You can tell me." Could I? "No one's asking you to put on a happy face, Y/n." The girl assured me, her eyes digging into mines. "It's not just George, we all lost—" she shook her head at her own words before correcting herself. "you lost him too."

I lost him too.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The memory of Fred's broken smile as his corpse laid on the stretcher, that memory that haunted my dreams, appeared vividly before my eyes.

My lips started to burn with the ghost of that kiss he gave me before we split up, him with Percy and me with George; it hadn't been meant to be a goodbye kiss. It was meant to be a good luck kiss.

I covered my mouth to muffle a sob, and Hermione's arms were quick to be wrapped around me, reassuringly rubbing my back.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I saw them entering from Y/n's balcony; I wasn't emotionally ready to face them all at the same time, but when I didn't see them exit, I figured Y/n hadn't been able to dismiss them.

I decided I owed to them all to bite the bullet, so I threw on a shirt and the first trousers I grabbed, cleaned up a bit and left the flat.

With a deep breath, I made it to the second floor and mentally prepared myself to go down to the first one.

As I began to climb down, though, I noticed Hermione and Y/n talking in private, closer than the others to the stairs.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but all my senses were automatically focused on Y/n whenever we were in the same room; she just stole me away from reality.

"You lost him too."

Hermione's words visibly triggered something on Y/n.

'Something', as if I didn't know what they had triggered, as if I didn't know what— who was on her mind.

I guess he was always on her mind, though.

What was left of my heart shattered in a million pieces when she broke down to tears —for several reasons—. "I miss him." She whispered in Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him so much."

If I had any tears left, I would have cried my eyes out right there. Had I been so selfish that I had disregarded how she was feeling? So blinded by the light and love and warmth she was constantly giving me that I had forgotten about her grief? Was I that bad of a person, that I would have rather live in the illusion that she had not lost the boy she was dating?

My mind told me I didn't want any of those questions answered.

"George!" As Ron yelled my name in surprise, Hermione and Y/n pulled away, the latter rubbing her eyes while both of my brothers jogged upstairs to hug me. "Ginny told us you're open—"

"But Y/n said you weren't feeling well." Bill finished, squeezing my shoulder. "We only stayed a little longer for Fleur to see the shop."

"Yeah, we'll come back tomorrow," Ron assured me. "So you can rest and..."

My brother's voice sounded further and further with each word; I felt myself drifting off, getting lost in my own mind and gravitating towards the same thought over and over.

She deserves better.

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gayger · 3 years

Text

"Summer in Konoha was ending and it was ending fast. With the end of that came the beginning of the end of Sakura's journey in high school. While it wasn't too rambunctious or anything of the sort, Sakura did have one regret: a high school sweet-heart. She didn't get to experience that all encompassing adoration being shown in the school halls, being yelled at by teachers for showing pda, or even the awkwardness of a first kiss. A part of her longed for that feeling - for that experience.

Those thoughts penetrated her mind as her eyes bore outside of her window, over at the open water of the ocean. Sighing, she dares to look away for a second and to her journal on her desk.

'Sakura's Dream Book!'

She smiles softly. She definitely got to cross off some of those dreams, though she wasn't sure they were the ones that she found of importance now.

Knock, knock!

"Sakura! Hey, Sakura!"

Sakura sighs, looking over at her window where one of her best friends was waiting outside patiently, perched up on the old oak tree that was beside her bedroom window.

Making her way over to him, she scowls at him slightly. Why couldn't the blond just knock on the front door like a normal person? Opening the window, big and honest blue eyes stared into hers excitedly.

"Did you forget? We're going to the beach today!" He shouts, a grin on his face. Taking in his tan sleeveless top and neon orange swim-trunks, she could only smile good naturedly. She forgot how much he was looking forward to this.

"I didn't forget, you're just early," she says as she shakes her head. "Go back down the tree and I'll get ready." Sakura pauses before she turns away, giving him a serious and dangerous look. "And Naruto?"

He gulps slightly, knowing what she was probably going to say. "Yes, Sakura-chan?"

"Don't even think about peeking or you are dead meat." She smiles sweetly, flexing her knuckles slightly. Naruto nods quickly, repeating a mantra of "Of course, anything for you - not that I was going to peek because that would be creepy!" And other things of that sort.

Eventually he had made his way down and she could hear a few of her other friends yell "Watch it!" and "Don't fall, you idiot!"

She laughs softly before getting ready.

Her highschool life may not have been everything she had hoped or wanted, but at the very least she had gotten through it with some of the best people.

~ ` ~ ` ~

"Mom! I'm heading out with some friends, we're going to the beach!" Sakura shouts, opening the front door and not stepping out until she hears her mothers resounding "Okay, be careful!"

"It's about time, forehead," snarks her other best friend. Sakura's eyebrow twitches, but she ignores the pretty blonde's snarky remark anyway. "Are we all ready to go?" She asks, a smile on her face as she adjusts her bag. It isn't like the walk is very far, it's pretty much just across the street so if they did forget something, her house was just right there. Pretty convenient if she's honest.

As they start walking, Sakura can't help but notice that a little ways down the street there was a movers vehicle in front of a big house.

"Hey! Someones moving into old man Madara's house!" Shouted Naruto, apparently spotting the same thing that she did. "Yeah, I guess so," Sakura hums out. She wonders if they were family members of Madara's or if it was simply sold. He passed away about a year or so ago, so it has been vacant for awhile now. Whoever it was, she hoped that they enjoyed living there. It was a beautiful house, Sakura had to admit.

While she was gawking at the house, her other best friend, Ino, let out a squeal.

Plugging one ear with her finger, Sakura gives her a look. "What the hell, Ino-pig?"

"Oh, come on. You aren't telling me that that super perceptive eye of yours didn't notice the really cute guy over there?" Ino swoons, "I hope he's single." Sakura rolls her eyes, but decides to take a look at who she could only assume Ino is talking about. It was just her luck that when she did, he decided to look over in their direction as well.

Her heart pounds and her cheeks flush slightly when he smirks at her and winks. "Ino, oh my god.. He saw me look - I'm screwed!" Sakura whispers quickly, pointedly looking away. The blonde could only laugh at her friend's predicament. It was just like Sakura to be put in a situation like that.

"I don't understand what the big deal is," Naruto says with a confused look. "I mean, he's super pale and his hair looks like a duck's ass."

"Nice one, Naruto," Kiba snorts, high-fiving him.

Feeling pretty embarrassed, Sakura just quickly starts walking towards the beach again - to their usual spot. Ino gave one last look in the mysterious and handsome boys direction before following her. "Hey, wait up!"

The two boys were left to follow once they were done laughing.

"So, why couldn't Hinata come?" Sakura asks as she lays out her beach towel next to Ino's. The blonde sat down, digging through her bag while answering, "Her father said that they were having family coming into town. She probably won't be able to hang out with us for awhile, from the sound of it."

Sakura juts out her lip slightly, "That sucks. She's really good at keeping Naruto calm."

"Yeah, I know - but, hey," Ino grins, "You've got me. I'm sure we can handle these two morons on our own for awhile." Both teens laugh, stretching their legs out as they applied sunscreen.

Off in the distance, Sakura noticed Naruto and Kiba going ahead into the water with no hint of sunscreen at all. She shakes her head, willing herself to not think about the atrocious sunburn both boys would be sporting later on today.

"Can you believe we are going to be seniors this year?" Ino says off-handedly, moving her blonde bangs away and behind her ear. "I feel like it was just yesterday that we were in middle school fawning over the band Akatsuki."

Sakura nods in agreement, "I know. It's honestly crazy but.." She trails off, a troubled look on her face as she recalls her journal. "I feel like it all went too fast. I didn't cover nearly all of the bases that I wanted to."

"You mean from your journal?" Ino questioned, looking at Sakura in interest. "What was left unchecked? I'm pretty sure you made it your mission to have everything done and dealt with. I mean, you have been the top of our class and our student body leader practically every year."

Sakura's cheeks turn slightly red as she looks away from Ino, hurriedly standing up. "It's.. Just stupid stuff, you wouldn't understand!" She says quickly, trying to exit the question. She practically runs to the water, Ino following after her trying to protest the abrupt end to their conversation.

As soon as the cool water reached across her feet, Sakura let out a soft sigh. She slowly walks out deeper until she's about knee deep, letting her head fall back as she relishes in the feeling of the cool water. Sakura loves the ocean. It was her calm, it was her escape. She can't count how many times she came out here just to wade in the water whenever she was troubled.

Off in the distance, Sakura could see Naruto on his surfboard riding the waves. The guy was a total goofball, but she had to admit that he was one of the best surfers at their high school. He genuinely enjoyed it. It was the only thing (other than the lovely Hinata) that he would give 100% his focus.

"Hey, Forehead. You can't just take off like that," Ino shouts with a scowl on her face as she finished tying her long hair into a bun on top. "Why wouldn't I understand anyway? We've had many of the same experiences, I don't think there is much that I have done that you haven't."

"You would be surprised, but even so.." Sakura sticks out her tongue at her, "You will never know."

"Fine!" Ino pouts, "Be like that."

Sakura laughs, shaking her head and Ino joins in. She really was her best friend.

~ ` ~ ` ~

A few hours later, the four teens are all sprawled out on their beach towels laughing.

"I can't believe you wiped out just right after you were boasting about how you are the best," Kiba howls.

Naruto scowls, shaking his fist at Kiba in protest. "Hey! It happens - you wiped out way more than I did today, anyway dog-breath!" But even with the name calling, he too cracked a grin.

Sakura only watched with a fond smile on her lips. She looks up at the sky, noting that it would be dinner time soon.

"We should probably get going soon," She hums out. She lived just across the road, but she knew that Ino lived quite a walk away and she didn't want her walking in the dark. She knows that Naruto lives a block away from her and would walk her home if it did get dark, but Sakura would rather be safe than sorry.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm beat!" Ino yawns, covering her mouth in the process. Despite all of the sunscreen she plastered on, the blonde was still beyond burnt. Sakura could only imagine the horrified look on her friend's face when she looked in the mirror later.

"But, but-" Naruto pouts, hanging his head. "We've barely seen each other the last few days."

"Hey, Naruto, look at me." Sakura sighed, shaking her head fondly. "How about we all have a sleepover tomorrow night, okay? Then we can all spend plenty of time together."

He immediately perked up, but Kiba rubbed at his hair some in thought. "I wish I could, but Akamaru is going to the vet tomorrow. He's going to need me all night." Naruto gives him a disbelieving look but Kiba quickly waves his hands. "Don't give me that look! You know how much of a baby he is."

"Well, whatever the case may be.. I will be there and I'm sure Shikamaru and Ten Ten would be down to go, too. Ten Ten especially, she was really upset that she hasn't been able to spend so much time with us because of college and her job."

"Sounds like a plan, then." Sakura says, clapping her hands.

Heading towards the sidewalk, Sakura slings her bag over her shoulder. She's chatting away with Ino when she hears him.

"Hey."

Ino nudges her slightly, shutting the pinkette up for a moment and pointing in the direction of the voice. "Is he talking to me or you?" She asks, softly, before putting on a big and flirtatious smile.

"Hey yourself, I'm Ino," she introduces herself while holding out her hand.

The black eyes of the boy from down the street doesn't even spare Ino a glance, instead focusing on Sakura's own emerald orbs.

"I was hoping I'd catch you, I'm Sasuke." He introduces himself, giving her a small smirk and offering up his hand. Ino huffs but looks Sakura over and notices her red face. Sighing, she nudges her in the small of her back trying to get the pink haired teen back on track from her short circuit.

"I'm, uh, Sakura." She finally says, lamely, while holding out her hand. He takes it and she goes to shake, but instead he bows down and brings her knuckles up.. And he presses a small, light kiss.

Sakura could have fainted and Ino picked the worst time to pat her on the shoulder, "Well Saks, I'm gonna go ahead and head home. Text me, okay?" Before the blonde bounds off, waving cheerily.

Sakura retracts her hand, trying to regain focus, not even registering that her friend left her.

"Well," Sasuke pauses watching her face as he spoke, "I was hoping that I could maybe get your number and perhaps an agreement to meet me tomorrow?" Sakura couldn't believe her ears. For once, in her life, a cute guy was asking her and not Ino or hell, even her asking him.

"Uh, um.. Sure," she says as she pulls out her phone. She fumbles with it slightly nearly dropping it which draws a laugh from him as he effortlessly pulls his own phone from his pocket. She was starting to feel bad for all of the times Hinata has gotten nervous or messed up in front of Naruto or anyone, really. "Here," she says as she hands him her phone and his in return. They place their numbers in and once done, he gives her a cool smile.

"Alright then, I will talk to you later, Sa-ku-ra."

"R..Right," she says softly as she waves bye and he turns to leave. After he's long gone, she just stands there kind of dumbly. She couldn't believe that really happened but her mother opened the door to their house and shouted "Sakura, stop standing there like a dumbass and get inside!"

Snapping out of it, she immediately crosses the street to enter the house.

"Why were you just standing out there?" Her mother asks, shutting the door behind her. Sakura smiled sheepishly, tightening her hold on her bag.

"I was talking to someone and I was just lost in thought. No biggie, really."

"Talking to someone?" Her mother questions and Sakura nods, starting to head up the stairs.

"Yeah! But it was no one important, honest!"

Mrs. Haruno was unconvinced but let her go up the stairs. She was sure she would be able to get some information from Ino if needed.

Plopping down on her bed, her bag on the floor, she lets out a sigh. That really just happened. Pulling her phone up to her face, she notices that she has two messages. One from Ino and the other… from him.

Her face slightly pink, she opens up the one from her friend first.

From: Miss Piggy

Subject: Duckbutt

To: Billboard

Girl, you better tell me all of

the deets! Not a single bit of

information left out (6 p.m.)

Sakura snorts at the subject line. She figured that the comment Naruto made will not be forgotten anytime soon - especially since he was right, to a degree. Quickly, she writes out a response before opening the message from Sasuke.

From: Sasuke Uchiha

Subject: Meeting

To: Sakura

How about tomorrow at the ice

-cream parlor up the street at 1?

(6:10 p.m.)

Sakura thinks to herself quietly, trying to map out a time-line for tomorrow. She knows tomorrow that it is the sleepover which means most of them will be coming around 4 or 5, but she also knows that Ino likes to get a head start above everyone else which means she could pop in at any time.. This was tricky, but maybe she could time it just right. Besides, it's just for ice cream. It's not like they are going to be there for hours.

Quickly, she types out "Sure! Sounds great :)".

She deletes the smiley face a couple of times, but at some point she accidentally sent the message while it was on there. Innerly she cursed herself, but what could she do? It already sent.

"Honey?" Sakura's father knocks on the door, opening it up. He was finally home and Sakura couldn't help but smile as she stood up from her bed. "Dinner is ready, come eat."

"Coming!" Sakura says cheerily, meeting her father to walk down the stairs.

Her father worked in the oil field, so he was only home one or two weeks out of a month. So family dinners were precious to her heart. She just wished he was home more, but she understood why he chose that field. While it wasn't reliable, it paid pretty decently. It paid the bills and allowed them some luxuries. One of those being Sakura's growing college fund. It is because of this that Sakura felt a little more pressured to make sure she succeeded and did something worthwhile. She didn't want all of his hard earned money to go to waste.

She just hoped it wouldn't be for nothing.

~ ` ~ ` ~

Sakura knew what she was expecting to see when she woke up in the morning. The very same view that greets her every morning: her ceiling with her stars and solar system stickers. Instead, she got bright blue eyes staring her in her soul and a cage made from blonde hair. Accompanied by a headache, of course, because why would Ino do anything quietly?

"Get your lazy ass up, forehead!" Ino yells, hands on her hips as she pulls back from her face.

Sakura groans, rolling around onto her side and stuffing her pillow onto her head. "Go away."

Ino tsks and the only thing running through Sakura's head is shit. Ino grabs a hold of her foot and yanks as hard as she could, dumping Sakura on the floor by her bed. Sakura glares up at the blonde, scowling. She was having a good dream.

"Damn, it is never this hard to get you up. You're usually up before sunrise to watch it," Ino mumbles out. Sakura blushes, shaking her head. Ino didn't need to know that she stayed up practically all night with anxiety as an obnoxious bubble in her chest.

"Sorry," Sakura mumbles nonchalantly while her eyes look for her clock. Her eyes widen when she realizes it says 12 p.m. Hurriedly, she scrambles up, panic clear on her face.

"Woah there, what has got you so eager to get up all of a sudden?" Ino questions, eyebrow raised as she watches the pinkette hurry to her closet and pull out outfit after outfit. Then it clicked. "Oh. My. God!" She squeals before enveloping Sakura into a tight hug. "You're going to meet him aren't you?! That's why you were acting all weird last night when I was trying to see when I could come over!"

Sakura's face is bright red and she taps her arms to get her to let go. "Fine, yes. We are supposed to meet at the ice cream parlor at 1."

"Then there is no time to waste! Here, let me help!"

~ ` ~ ` ~

It took a matter of 30 minutes, but Sakura was well on her way down to the ice cream parlor. She didn't want to run because she could just hear Ino griping in her head about how her 'perfect' work would be absolutely ruined. Nervously, Sakura tucks a loose strand behind her ear. The parlor comes into view and she quickens her steps, grateful that she opted for simple sandals that fit her comfortably instead of Ino's bright idea which was heels. Her feet would be killing her, she is not like Ino who could dead-sprint in stilettos.

She could see him outside of the parlor, leaning against the wall. His eyes catch hers and her heartbeat quickens as her cheeks flush. Sakura stops in front of him and he gives her a small smile.

"Hey," he says and Sakura's genius murmurs a quiet, "Hi."

Sakura looks anywhere but him for the simple reason she felt very self conscious, but it all stopped momentarily when he offers her his hand and he leads her inside the parlor.

"What kind of icecream do you like?" He asks her as they approach the cashier to order. Sakura hums, thinking, and she smiles before answering: "chocolate as of right now."

Sasuke laughs quietly, "As of right now?" He questions and looks at her amusedly.

"It changes," she supplies before looking up at him, "How about yours?"

"Strawberry."

They didn't stay at the parlor long, instead they found themselves at the beach. They walked along the waves, Sakura's sandals in one hand and the other hand locked with his. The sunlight against their skin was refreshing and added to the warmth of the situation, the wind carrying her laughter as they talked.

"So.." Sakura trails off, her eyes slowly looking up towards his, "What brought you and your family here?"

"My great uncle left it to my brother Itachi in his will, but it's a big house and he wanted to share it with the rest of us." Sakura hums, watching the brief coldness flash in his eyes when he mentioned his brother. She didn't question it, this date… Was that what it was? This date was going well and she didn't want to ruin it by prying into his family life.

"I had no idea he had any relatives, if I'm honest," Sakura says thoughtfully and smiles. "But, I'm happy to find that he did. My friends and I made it a habit to drop gifts and say hi during holidays." Sakura rambles, leaving out the 'because he seemed so lonely' due to her not wanting to offend him.

"Yeah.. He wasn't much for big family gatherings."Sasuke shrugs and then looks down at her, taking in the way the sun brought out the many different shades of greens and spots of blue in her eyes.

"You have very pretty eyes."

She blushes, looking away. "Thank you," she says softly and can feel her chin being lifted up by him. His gaze was heavy and the world stopped around her, nothing but their breathing and her heart beating ferociously could be heard with the gentle lullaby of waves.

"Don't look away from me, Sa-ku-ra." His thumb gently rubs against her cheek and she half expects him to kiss her but instead, he drops his hand and re-takes her hand in his.

"Shall I walk you home?"

Her mind is blank and it takes a minute for what he said to process. A little bit of disappointment bubbles in her, a fear that maybe she said something wrong. "Oh, uh, sure," she says softly and she guides him to her home which is across the street.

Once they arrive, she lets go of his hand and fidgets, unsure of what to do now. Sighing, she looks down at her feet before slowly looking up at him. "Look, I'm sorry if I said something wrong-" Her words die on her tongue because he does something so unexpected and peculiar.

He poked her forehead with his index and middle finger, effectively catching her off guard.

"I had fun, Sa-ku-ra," he removes his fingers and Sakura watches, dumbfounded. "Let's do it again sometime."

"Okay," she replies and a pretty blush forms on her cheeks, she shyly watches him leave with a small smile on her face.

She turns around and briefly catches blue eyes peeking through the blinds of the living room window and she sighs, shaking her head. Of course she would get no privacy.

Stepping inside the house, she is greeted by her mother and Ino laughing obnoxiously on the couch. Not at all suspicious. Sakura places her hand on her hip, looking at them expectantly.

"Did you guys sate your curiosity looking outside the window?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," her mother states innocently before her expression turns devilish. "Buuuutttt, since you're here. Mind sharing the details?"

Sighing, Sakura gives in and decides to tell them about everything - with the exception of what happened near her front door. That, she had decided, would stay secret for her sake. Or as secret as it could, considering she was being watched the entire time they were out there."

- "A Proclivity for Love" chapter one.

Want to read more?

You can find it on AO3 and Fanfiction,net. There are 23 chapters!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13822288/1/A-Proclivity-for-Love

#itachi uchiha #sakura x itachi #itasaku fanfiction #itasakusasu #modern au itasaku #itasaku #sasuke x sakura #sasuke uchiha #sasusaku #anime #sakura fanfiction #sakura haruno #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden #naruto #fanfiction #fanfic #fic recs

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atsunflower · 3 years

Text

Rated: SFW

Author notes: *sigh* for the third time the damned app ate up the tags. This one took me too long and I'm excited for write about my man suna again. This is also pretty different from what I'm used to write, but why not? Please enjoy your reading.

Warnings: cursing, substance usage/mentions, break-ups and me trynna be funny.

I – Cancel me.

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He looked at them with expectation as the beats smoothly faded, indicating the song's ending.

If he were to be honest, the pair before him was a pain in the ass, but their opinion was that important because, when it came to music, they were the best at it. He felt no shame nor jealousy in admitting it.

"Dunno, the hook sounds like a Vice headline ta me." The bleach-haired male said, hearring the song's outro blaring through the studio speakers.

"Isn't it a Kid Milli reference, tho?" The other asked while munching a chip. He frowned at them, not understanding their point.

"Whatever. You two are no help anyways." Hearring their bullshit, the brunette already regretted this collab. He paused the queued song, turning to the other two with a blank stare.

The twins before him snickered, knowing they successfully hit a nerve. They couldn't help it, provoking Suna was one of their favorite hobbies.

"The song is good, but I gotta tell ya this butt hurt phase of yers is pretty lame." The faux-blond opened his mouth again, spinning around the studio with the desk chair.

"Fuck you, Atsumu" He snapped, almost giving in to the desire of decking them both on the face.

"Tsumu's right, ya Lil Peep wannabe. Can't believe this break up ended up that bad." Osamu said in mockery, throwing the empty Lay's wrapper at him. He scoffed, disposing the wrapper on the bin before getting back at the screen to look at the FL studio interface.

"It's not that I have a broken heart. I just wanna know what's wrong with my life" He shrugged, blindly tacting over the desk in search of his Juul.

"Yeah Samu, he's just grieving over those fancy ass Dior Jordans. Sunarin is incapable of mundane things like a broken heart." His blond friend was partially right.

Suna Rintaro was many things: alt model, music producer, cloud artist and a decent volleyball player that almost went pro. But if there was something he could never be, it was a lucky man on love matters.

With his fair share of failed relationships, the artist could never pinpoint when things went wrong. It would always be the same: he would meet a girl, they would have a good time and then, the chick would turn out demanding as fuck.

In the end, every single one of them would slap him across the face and leave his life banging the front door shut like crazy — last week, it was Mika who broke things off, but not before setting his limited edition pair of jordans on fire. He would never get over those sneakers.

"Good for him, those kicks were kinda ugly." Osamu said in a bored manner. Suna felt his soul leaving his body.

"The hell, Osamu?" He was ready to fight, deeply offended by the attack at his taste in fashion.

"Yo, you two." Atsumu butted in, checking something on his phone "Y'all are drifting away from our problem."

"That is?" The other brother asked.

"Cheer up Sunarin before he fucks up with the Album." If Suna had the energy, he would kick both Miyas out of his studio "And I gotta the perfect thing. Let's hang out at Akagi's tonight, he just invited us." The already distressed musician felt the soul leaving his body for the second time that afternoon. He was sure both twins wished his death.

"Not a fucking chance. Last time I went there I almost died because of that weird stuff we smoked."

"Aw, Sunarin, Kita'll be there too." The faux-blonde tried to persuade. The mention of their older, responsible and straight edge friend made Suna look at them with interest. But he needed more, though. Based on the last experience, he didn't have the will to risk his life going to Akagi's house once again. A shiver descended his spine as the male recalled how much he threw up that night.

"Suna, man, I gotta agree with Tsumu. Yer feelings are showing in your music." Osamu said as if he was some kind of genius.

"Isn't art about it, tho?" He deadpanned "Expressing feelings and shit?" He asked, staring them dead in the eye. The males before him shivered because of its intensity. Suna snickered.

"Man says art, but most of his songs are about the Nikes on his feet and the Tesla in his garage." Atsumu mocked "What the fuck?" The blonde barely dodged the moleskine thrown at him.

"Don't chew on me when you do the same, asshat. This is called character development." As unnerving the twins were, he felt a whole lot better in their company "Just lemme produce my sad stuff in peace."

"Cut us some slack, ya dumbfuck. We're just worried about ya." Osamu protested " 'Sides, no wonder no girl sticks by yer side. You know what the chicks find sexy? Seizing the means of production, not yer dumb car."

"You two are so la—" The musician was interrupted mid sentence, startled by the blond figure clutching his phone with enthusiasm.

"Oi Samu," Atsumu's loud voice startled the other two, as he excitedly fisted the air.

"What the fuck?" Suna asked, dropping the Juul on the floor.

"She'll be there tonight." The blond said, looking at his brother with a new wave of joy.

"The fuck? She who?" The brunette frowned.

"Ya gotta go and find out, man." The gray haired twin said with a knowing smile, matching his brother's excitement.

The night out felt somewhat draining. The booze, the music and the company were great, but his lack of energy was a mood killer.

Cheer me up my ass, Suna cursed internally as he observed everyone getting wasted all over the place. He grimaced at the sight, realizing the meeting with the twins was enough social interaction for the day.

He didn't know what's gotten into him. The male knew it wasn't necessarily caused by the break up, but he couldn't help the feeling down.

Right now, life just felt lowkey suffocating.

Being a public figure meant being under the spotlights the most of time.

People talked.

People assumed.

Media was all over him, ready to catch a scandall.

And of fucking course his name was on gossip headlines. It even occupied a spot on twitter trending topics for a day or so.

"Fuck me." He said before the lukewarm beer went down his throat.

"Sunarin!" He heard Atsumu shouting from his right "I want you to meet someone!" And only now he noticed the blond had his left arm over a girl's shoulders.

Oh, that's the one they were talking about, maybe? the brunette realized. What's the hype, tho? He asked himself, eyeing your figure.

"[Name], this is Suna. Sunarin, this is [Name], best girl ever and the mastermind behind the visuals of mine and Samu's last album" The bleach-haired male said with a proud smirk, ruffling your hair. You were obviously shy.

How cute, the brunette thought.

"Dumbass, don't embarrass me in front of others!" You nudged the Miya with your elbow "Nice to meet you, I saw your name on TMZ last week—" You said beaming and he grunted.

I take it back. Not cute at all, the man internally screamed, not ready to talk about the recent events. He didn't even want to listen to the rest of your speech, your cheery voice went through his ears in a white noise.

"And this makes me really excited for your album. The interview about the collab with dumb and dumber was lit." You continued, the words were genuine and you seemed really interested "And I also relate on a spiritual level because I know working with them is hell."

Oh, she's talking about the album. He realized in relief.

"Yo, I heard good things about you too. The design of their album was hella sick, even though they two suck ass." Suna snickered when he heard Atsumu protesting. You only left out a giggle, joining him on the teasing.

The blond kept ranting about how bad of friends the two of you were.

"I didn't introduce y'all ta gang up on me. Bye, I'm finding another company. Ya two suck." The blonde Miya said, leaving only you and Suna in the sofa area.

"Uh, so…" He drifted off, trying to start some small talk

"Yeah..." You both giggled at the awkwardness "Not enjoying the night?"

"Too much happening right now. Lots of people talking shit 'bout me." He sipped the beer, grimacing at the stale taste of the drink "Hope they cancel me already. So all this shit dies down." Suna looked away, suddenly shy for opening up to a stranger.

"You're a famous guy and the break-up wasn't that scandalous. It'll be over eventually, just beware the sneaker cult." Your amusement was comfort enough. You didn't make intrusive questions about the events and merely joked it off. He felt so worn out by the situation but, at least, your presence wasn't overbearring.

"How is it everyone knows about the jordans?" You shrugged it off, laughing at the distressed face he mocked. Sighing in relief, Suna couldn't deny how refreshing your presence was. Not to be a jerk, but usually, the girls either were all over him or judged every single move he made. You were just that easygoing.

"Well, I don't think you came here to sulk on the sofa all night long. Why don't we join them by the pool and down some shots?" You hopped off of your seat, pointing to the glass doors. All the boys were waving at you two and suddenly, Suna felt a wave of joy run down his body.

Atsumu was right. Best girl ever.

At some point of the night, everything became about you.

All he could hear was the sound of your voice and all the time, his eyes were drawn to your figure. He couldn't figure out a reason for it, but the rapper wasn't complaining either.

A sharp pang at the side of Suna's head broke the trance he was in. Osamu had a shit eating grin on his face, eyeing the ravenette with amusement.

"We told ya so." The younger twin mused whilst he handed a long neck of vodka to the other.

"Stop. This is dumb."

"Yer dumb. But you ain't that dumb ta dare ta mess with her." The gray-haired Miya squinted at him, menacingly pointing the bottle in his hand at the brunette. The latter shrugged it off, opening his drink.

"Nah, I'm good." And he meant it.

But how could he explain the situation he was in?

Lips and hands wandered over the expanse of his skin. Everything was too hot and too good at the same time. Overwhelming, even.

He wanted more, more and more. There wasn't enough of you.

And if it wasn't unfair enough, his body felt lethargic. He was desperate, but couldn't keep up with the rhythm you imposed. Be it the alcohol or the stress, his body gave up and blacked out, even before you could undress each other.

In the morning after, a pounding headache woke him up. Suna didn't dare to open his eyes, but the morning breath fanning over his face was unbearable.

"I can't believe a cutie like you have a stinky breath like this." The complaint came out in a raspy voice, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

Someone snickered on the other side of the room.

"Man, I didn't know you had the hots fer Samu." Atsumu was somewhere across the room, laughing at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Hearing the other, Suna's body jolted, dizziness made his head spin in the process. He felt sick in the stomach and the morning light made his eyes sting. "When did I get back here?" The male looked around, realizing he was sprawled over Akagi's floor, right beside Osamu, who didn't even squirm at the loud voices in the room.

"What do ya mean? We never left" Atsumu frowned, uncaping a water bottle he was holding "Ya puked on Kita and passed out. The boys were too wasted ta drag yer sorry ass back home so we all crashed here." The blonde was dumbfounded, trying to figure out how wasted Suna got last night.

Suna wanted to know too. After all, there was no way the events envolving you were a product of his drunk mind.

facts:

• Suna's artist name is yosemite.

• He has a Tesla Model S because of Frank Ocean.

• He takes his Nikes very seriously.

• No, not all of his songs are about the car and the kicks.

• He and the Miya twins got a sports scholarship because of volleyball, but they dropped out of school to make music.

• The three of them created Inarizaki, the label they're making music under. Kita and Aran manage it.

• Both Miya twins are beatmakers and music producers. They recently debuted as artists and now are making a collab EP with Suna, thus Atsumu's concern about the album.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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shinyrockalaska · 3 years

Text

Acceptance (or: Charlie's incident)

Summary: Charlie decides to drink Amortentia, just to see if it could affect him, so he could feel the same things everyone else around him seems to feel. Unfortunately, he didn't check who's Amortentia he was drinking...

Word count: 3.3k (my longest fic so far!)

More about the inspiration for this at the end of the post!

Enjoyy <3

He didn't plan it.

Well, yes, he thought about it a few times before, but only theoretically. He never intended to try and do something so drastic to change himself.

But he was in the sixth year and he was seventeen and everybody already had too many expectations of him.

They all acted as if they knew everything about him, who he was going to be, what he was going to do... he couldn't change it, he couldn't tell them they're wrong because he didn't know what was right. Yes, he's a kind and caring person. Yes, he sucks at school because he just can't focus or stop daydreaming. He's messy and obsessive and is definitely going to work with dragons after graduation. They all knew it, and so did he. But that's it, the rest was a blur.

He should've felt lucky. At least he always knows what he wants to do after graduation. Some of his friends, like Tulip and Ben, still had no clue, and they were all stressed out about it. But they all somehow fitted in. With the outsiders, yes, but most of the time Charlie felt like he's an outsider even to the outsiders.

Some may say it's because no one has ever seen him wearing any short clothes, not even in the summertime. He always walked around hiding in his big green coat. Or maybe because of his weird specific fears, that no one else seemed to share or to be scared of it as much as he did. Not even Ben. Or probably, because he never dated anyone and never talked about it with anyone. Charlie thought it was all of those things, that made him himself, but, weird. He never hated himself and was quite proud of being different. But in the end, it doesn't matter. Even the proudest quirky kids would choose to be normal - to fit in - if they could. So you can see why now, at seventeen, he felt that desire to fit in.

Every dinner with his family, his mum would nag him to try and find a nice girl. More for herself than for him, really. Because most wizards and witches find their partners at school. All of his friends already started to go out with each other and whatever student they liked at the moment. There were couples everywhere. EVERYWHERE. And he still couldn't figure out what's wrong with him and why he's not interested in any of that. Even the religious kids, the anxious kids, the awkward kids- all talked about their crushes non-stop. Not everyone dated, of course, but they all talked about it, and the pressure was high. All he ever heard around him was sex, kissing, dates and love. Whatever that was.

The worst part was that his friends were actually supportive.

At first, they would beg him to tell them who his secret crush is, which student he liked. They wouldn't listen whenever he told them that he doesn't have one. But they all calmed down after a while and he explained that he just doesn't care about this stuff. He just doesn't.. feel the need. And they accepted it. Accepted him. But now he was just being put in another box. They stopped talking about their crushes with him because they knew he wouldn't understand. And that was just not true. But could he argue with him when it's so clear they know him better than he knows himself?

So that was the situation he was in. That's why after a super frustrating Amortentia class, where everyone around him kept blushing and giggling at the smell of their own and everyone else's cauldrons, where his friends all sent him sad smiles and kept telling him how jealous they are that he has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, where he had to lie and tell Snape fake smells because, of course, he smelled nothing, he just couldn't take it anymore. He decided it was time for a change.

So when the class was dismissed, he stayed nearby. And when Snape left the classroom, he scooped some leftover potion into the weird-shaped glass bottle and drunk it without thinking, without hesitating, and without even knowing who's cauldron it was.

It's Amortentia, after all. The strongest love potion. If it increases those love feelings to others, then he might actually feel something, be somewhat normal.

He felt guilty for doing it and had to stop himself from running to professor Snape so he would give him the antidote right away before anything bad will happen. He knew the potion just cause obsession and trouble, but he had to know, at least for a little while, what's it like to be kind of in love.

At first, he didn't feel anything different. Lunch was normal, Care of magical creatures was normal. He felt dizzy at History of magic, but maybe it had more to do with the boring lesson than the potion itself. Charlie was disappointed but somewhat relieved when still nothing had changed by dinner time.

That is, until, Merula has entered the room.

He forgot that tiny, little, important detail that now he was madly in fake love with whoever brewed that potion. Which was, how unlucky for him, Merula. But now he didn't care about it. All he wanted to do was stay with her from now on and forever.

"Charlie, are you okay? You look a little sick," Barnaby commented about his appearance. "And a bit pale," Tonks added, but Charlie preferred to ignore his friends' concerns. "Have you ate something bad?" Rowan questioned, "is it because of potion class?" That question made him nervous, of course. "N-no! I'm just tired.. w-why would it have to do anything with p-potion class?"

"Because you smelled nothing, right? You're not upset about it, right?" They all looked at him with that same sad-apologetic smile as always. He hated it. Just because he's different doesn't mean he needs to be treated differently. "Guys, I'm fine. I don't care. It doesn't matter. Being yourself is the best thing anyone can be! Why would I want to be anything else but myself?" Maybe he was trying too hard to hide it. He sighed, "please just stop giving me those sorry faces. I don't need your pity, I-"

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Merula leaving the room. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and hurried up after her.

He couldn't pick up the nerves to talk to her so he just followed her around to the Slytherin house in the dungeons. Then, he had to go to sleep, but he couldn't stop staring at the ceiling, smiling, and dreaming about Merula.

"What's up with him?" Ben asked as he entered their dorm. Jae shrugged, "I think he's been drugged." And when Ben's face showed panic he laughed, "just kidding, he's probably thinking about dragons."

Normally, Charlie would be tired after sleeping less than six hours, but he had an amazing dream about him and Merula on a date with candles and chocolate and all he wanted was to feel her hand in his own.

"Are you alright, Charlie..? You still look pretty sick," his friends told him at breakfast. "I'm more than fine, I've never felt better," he said with this wide fuzzy exaggerated smile and the fake spark in his eyes. He barely touched his food, he just kept staring at Merula. And his friends noticed.

"Why are you looking at the Slytherin table? Who are you starting at? Awwww did you finally got a crush?" Normally he'd be embarrassed by this question, which always made him feel unease. But this time, he wanted to be with Merula so badly, that he welcomed any help. "It's Merula, can you maybe get her attention? I really want to kiss her! And maybe.. more? I already thought about names for our kids! Human names even! We'll have a perfect life near the dragon reserve!" He babbled.

"What?!?! You can't be serious! That's- that's just- no!!" They were shocked and a bit disgusted. "It doesn't make sense, Charlie.. you hate Merula!" Talbott said, making Charlie angry, "well, maybe you don't know everything about me!" He shouted, and many students' heads turned around to look at him. "Ever thought about it? That maybe I am more than the way you see me? More than the things you see in me?!" He kept shouting, making his friends feel embarrassed, as they lowered their heads. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Charlie frowned. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to ask out Merula!" He shouted this sentence too, causing Merula to look at him, disgusted, and run out of the great hall immediately. He shot one last angry look at his friends, before storming out of the room, after Merula.

"As you all know I'm an expert in love and-" Andre started to say quickly but got cut off by Diego. "I think we can all agree I'm the love expert."

"True," Jacob's sibling said, "you promised to get me dates at the third year and you still haven't! Diego's been more helpful than you.."

Andre was irritated, "That.. that doesn't matter!! Can't you see that Charlie is-"

"Poisoned!" Rowan cut him off, "he's drugged on Amortentia!"

"No way! It's too hard to- oh no! He probably drunk it yesterday after class!" Penny was frightened.

"Dang it, Charlie! What do we do now??"

"We'll have to tell a professor. Even if he'll hate us. We have to do it before he does something stupid like actually making a move on Merula!" Rowan stated, horrified.

"Merula wait! Please, let's talk!" Charlie shouted, running behind her, and she surprisingly stopped. He caught her a few halls past the great hall, on the way to the dungeons. she almost got away from him. He took her hand and started talking, blushing, stumbling on his words. "I can't imagine my life without you! We will be so perfect together, don't you think? Let's run away and start a family together! Do you like dragons? I was thinking we could live next to the Romanian dragon sanctuary and have at least two kids. Do you like the names Violet and Jade? I think they're perfect! I picked them because it's like your eyes and the Slytherin colour. And also not dragon names! Oh, I feel so safe and happy around you. Can you tell me about yourself and your family and life and beliefs and every little detail possible?" He was now hugging her, clutching to her as close as he can.

"This is unsettling in so many ways, Charlie. Stop it now. I don't know what sick game you're playing but cut it now before I'll have to hex you, or call someo-"

"Game? No, no! This is love, baby! Don't you see it?" Charlie felt heartful, in a way he never felt before. And he liked it, being fearless. Feeling warm and being somehow full of love. "Did someone dared you to do it? Have you been drinking elixir to induce euphoria? Oh no, don't tell me you're-"

"Merula! I'm so sorry for Charlie's behavior." McGonagall called out from the end of the hall, followed by Charlie's friends. "What are you doing here?! Go away! I don't need you! I have my Merula! Don't ruin this for me! I deserve to have love too!" Charlie screamed and clung to Merula even more than before.

"Charles Weasley come with me right now!" McGonagall was furious. No student has ever acted like that.

"No! I'm staying here with the love of my life!" He tried to kiss Merula's hand who just pulled it out of his reach immediately, disgusted and uncomfortable. "Don't talk to me ever again, freak." She said and walked away.

"No! Don't leave me! We can make it work!" Charlie screamed as he hurried up after Merula, who now went from fast walking to running. McGonagall grabbed Charlie's arm and stopped him. "you're coming with me now, I cannot believe you!" she said loudly, disappointed.

"No!!! You can't stop me from being happy and in love! This is me, just go away! I have to get Merula back!" He was hysterical, tears running down his face. He cried so much his head started to ache, but he didn't care. he had to follow Merula. Had to be with her. He'd rather die, give up on dragons even, than not spend every single minute of his life now with Merula.

But McGonagall pulled him away from any hope to fulfill his dreams, all the way to her office. He kept cursing his friends, who looked very ashamed and worried, as he got dragged away from them. None of them laughed at the scene he caused.

"Drink this. NOW." McGonagall ordered, but Charlie refused. "I will not let you drug me and prevent me to have this! Let! Me! Go!" He screamed, caughting McGonagall off guard. But it wasn't the first time something like that happened, it just never got out of hand to be like... Charlie's case.

"Stupify." McGonagall cast the spell on Charlie, with a heavy heart. She hates using magic on students. Still, she poured the love-potion antidote liquid down his mouth and watched as he slowly got back his consciousness. She looked at him, all confused as he tried to remember what happened.

"Who did this to you? Was it Merula? She didn't look quite satisfied with your obsession but that doesn't mean it's not her. So tell me, who drugged you with love potion?" McGonagall asked him in both compassion and anger.

"What? Oh you mean the Amortentia.." he lowered his head, "it was.. me?"

"What?! This is beyond belief, Charlie! Why would you do that to yourself? You know it's a dangerous potion! You know the consequences! I expected better than yo-"

"That's exactly the problem!" He cut her off, rudely, "Everyone always expecting all sorts of things from me! I can't be everyone's version of me! I don't want to! I barely even want to be me! You wouldn't understand but I just had to fit in!!"

Charlie never in his life yelled like that at anyone or anything, especially not a professor. But he didn't care anymore. He was sick of everything. McGonagall was surprised again, it was very unlike him to behave that way.

"I- Charlie, listen." He looked at her a bit worried and ashamed. "You don't need to be fixed. You know that using potions and magic to change yourself is bad, especially if it's illegal.." she gave him an alerting look. "I can't tell you how to feel or who to be, but I want you to know that every person is different than the others and there is absolutely not a thing that is wrong with being yourself. Being different is good-"

"As someone who's been different his entire life, I can assure you it's not. Everyone always says it's wonderful to be extraordinary and different and special and whatever, but even the proudest weirdest kids would choose to be like everyone else and fit in if they could.." Charlie said, focusing on the wall rather than McGonagall's eyes, playing with the zipper of his coat.

"Maybe you need to have more pride, Charlie. You're a very unique person, let those special things about you define you by your choice, instead of being ashamed of them. I encourage you to find that strength to let go of the shame and fear in you and to just.. be yourself."

"Pride is stupid," Charlie murmured quietly, "it's something I had no control over. it's not a drawing I made that I put a lot of effort and time into it, so I'm proud of it. No. It's something I couldn't even choose, something I can't change. There's no pride in having no control."

"Well, could you have chosen to be a Gryffindor?"

"Uh, no, but.." Charlie went quiet, thinking.

"I know, you wanted to be in Gryffindor, but if you happened to be in Hufflepuff, wouldn't you still have some house pride in you?" McGonagall asked him.

"I guess.." Charlie shrugged, still upset.

"We cherish pride in us, based on what we learn from our surroundings as we grow up. But society is not always right. In fact, most of the time it's even wrong. And so, you need to be your own society, sometimes. Be the change you want to see in the world, and even if you're different than the way it seems society tells you to be, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. You need to accept yourself just like you would've accepted any of your friends, and just like you would want the world to accept you. Even if you turn out to be completely different than the person you thought you are. understand?"

Charlie nodded. He felt, not for the first time, like McGonagall can read minds. She answered all of his worries and questions and feelings, with her calming words.

McGonagall let him off of his classes for the rest of the day and he decided to write a letter to his family, explaining how he feels. He asked them to be kind and understanding, as he has no control or any choice over his feelings. He wrote down everything that bugged him in the past years. The letter was far too long, and contained seven full written pages. In the end, Charlie decided he won't send it yet. he felt better, but still wasn't ready to face his family's reaction to his incident and different behavior. He felt as if it might disappoint them. it was ridiculous, he knew, they would love him no matter what. Even so, seeing those words, his words, written down in those pages, in his own handwriting, made him smile. It was his choice, to write them, to use them. And he won't let anyone tell him it's wrong.

At dinner, he sat with his friends as usual, worried about what his friends might say. He didn't want them to be worried about him, but he knew they were, after what he did...

"Hey guys, thanks for, uh.. you know... watching out for me.." he said, nervously.

"Sure thing! How are you feeling, Charlie? Better? You're not mad at us for calling McGonagall, right..?" His friends were just as worried as him.

"I'm feeling much better, relieved. I don't know what I would've done if you didn't call McGonagall.. you really saved me.."

He could see Merula sitting next to Ismelda, and glaring at him, furiously.

"You could've chosen a better person to fake fall in love with," Andre joked.

"Yeah, even in this I didn't have a choice or any luck," Charlie laughed, a bit uncomfortable as this subject was still upsetting sometimes.

"How much trouble did you get to from that talk with McGonagall? We haven't seen you all day, so we figured you've got punished real hard.." Ben said, carefully.

"Well, I need to write an apology letter for Merula.. but I got off easy."

"Your mother's not going to like it.." he heard one of them saying, but even that part was okay.

"McGonagall promised not to tell my parents if I'll agree to meet her once a week and talk to her about what's bothering me, instead of bottle it inside me... she wants me to have more pride, and she trust me to choose the right time for me to tell my parents about this incident."

His friends smiled at him, and he smiled at them back.

He tried not to feel nauseous, remembering how foolishly he acted that day, convinced he has to fit in. He still sometimes thought it would be better for him to be like the rest. But he can't. So when he felt that way, he reminded himself of McGonagall's words and named all the good things in his life, and the things he does have control over.

Charlie knew from the moment he drunk the Amortentia, that life might not be easy for him, always having to be the odd one out.

But it was his own life, and he should be proud of what he has.

---

Wow! Finally! I had this idea for like a year and I've been trying to write it ever since, so this definitely took time...

---

I really like how it turned out, I hope you'll like it too. This is how I see Charlie.

The fic was inspired by another beautiful fanfic (here's a link) where Charlie almost drinks the potion but ends up not doing it.

Even though it's not canon, to me, Charlie is the closest thing we have to an aromantic and asexual representation, and it's just so, so important to have that. It took me years to feel comfortable with me being like this, I'm still working on it, and I think a big part of it is because we don't see anything about it in the media or anywhere else really.

Self-acceptance is harder when it comes to aros and aces because it's just so different than other romantic/sexual orientations, it's hard to define lack of attraction, but it doesn't mean it's bad!

Everyone is valid, and I know knowing this doesn't make it immediately better, but it helps to remember it. I don't want people to be afraid of who they are, to feel like they need to be fixed, to have to hide away.

So now, it's the end of pride month but you and I- we're still here! And we can still shine bright and be proud of ourselves for coming so far! The truth is always right, don't be afraid of it. 💜💚

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasly #hphm fanfic #hphm fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #aroace charlie weasley #acceptance #asexuel #aromantic #tge representation I needed #idk what to tag as always

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Note

Hello there, I see you're back on blue-line drabbles! I love them, I am obsessed with this universe. I don't know if I ever came back to say hi after I read all your big fics, but somehow I liked each even better than the last! I don't know how that's possible! But anyway, I think one of the best signs of a good writer/good story is when you're not ready to leave the world once you've finished, and Blue Line is one of the few fanfics I've read where even well after I've finished it, (cont)

(cont) I want to keep living in it and I end up writing my own fic of it in my head (strange, I know). Anyway, for whatever reason, I got really invested in Roland and Lizzie's relationship. Like, how did they end up dating after knowing each other for literally Lizzie's entire life? How did the adults react? Do you have any Lizzie/Roland stories up your sleeve? They would not go unread :)

————

Hello, yes, listen, this ask has lived rent free™ in my head since I first got it and I cannot properly convey how absolutely, goddamn wonderful it is. I am a broken record of outdated references , but it continues and will always amaze me that people are not only interested in Blue Line (more than three years!!! after I originally started posting) but are also interested in other characters in the story who are, for all intents and purposes, original characters at this point. Like the overall size my heart becomes when reading something like that could potentially cause a serious medical condition.

But, like, in a nice way.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. It genuinely warms the cockles of my entire soul. And, like, if you wanna share those fic ideas of the fic, you’ll never hear me say no. Just like I will never turn down the opportunity to write more stuff. Which is what’s under the cut. This stuff includes:

Roland and Lizzie’s first kiss, what I hope is some legitimate banter, more kissing, obvious flirting, and Roland being something of a sap.

Also, uh, it’s entirely possible that I have also already written: Roland and Lizzie’s first “I love you,” their wedding and some other stuff where their kid is involved. Seriously, guys, I am always down to write other relationships in this ‘verse.

————

It was, she figured, something almost passably close to, sort of resembling, definitely inching somewhere nearer to—

Assured.

Unavoidable.

Inexorable

Inevitable.

That was a bad word. That last word. The third one was pretty impressive, honestly. Vocabulary, wise. She’d have to remember that one later. The last one, though. Made teeth Lizzie wasn’t even aware she possessed ache as she ground them together, a pronounced tension in her jaw that was likely affecting her shoulders as well. That word. An awful word. Boasted less-than-positive connotations, letters practically dripping with lack of self-control and overtly aggressive infatuation, but if the world expected her not to be a little in love with Roland Locksley by the time she turned fourteen and noticed that slight indentation in his right cheek every time he smiled, well, then the world had another thing coming.

Dimple, that was the appropriate description. Another word. More words. Too many words. All of them bouncing off the slope of her skull and scratching at the back of her brain, nearly distracting her from what should have been the very pleasant buzz lingering beneath whatever biological thing made up her top and bottom lips.

Which were parted in an emotion very similar to overwhelming surprise.

That was stupid.

The whole thing was stupid. God, maybe she was stupid. No, that wasn’t true. She’d made Dean’s List last semester. Stupid was—

A stupid word, really. Despite the blush rising in her cheeks and the wide eyes practically boring into her soul, bated breath that didn’t make any noise because that was what bated entailed, and no one else glanced in their direction. Not once. No one else noticed.

That the whole world had flipped upside down.

Or right-side-up, maybe. Depending on how the next five minutes or so went.

Because the last two minutes and twelve seconds, give or take, had seen Roland Locksley tilt his head and let his eyes flutter closed before his mouth found hers for the very first time — at midnight for God’s sake. On New Year’s Eve. Or New Year’s Day, she supposed. His parents were standing on the other side of the room.

Suggesting that Lizzie had ever been just a little in love with Roland was a rather monumental lie.

As far as those things went.

“So, uh—” she started, only to find blood in her mouth. From her teeth. Wayward and unpredictable, as they were. Biting down on the side of her tongue and Lizzie hated going to the dentist. Doing irreparable damage to her teeth on what was now legitimately New Year’s Day, in the middle of an annual party, was not on her schedule.

Metaphorical as it might have been.

She liked schedules. Had plans. Focus, even. People always said that about her — how focused she was, liked to throw around the word drive with startling regularity, as if they were amazed she wasn’t simply willing to rest on her laurels or the pair of last names she proudly toted around with her. As if Lizzie expected doors to swing open on a glance.

Rather than consistently preparing herself to knock them down.

She liked the challenge of it all. Appreciated the way disbelief always spiked something in her blood, and that was likely equal parts genetic predisposition and a product of her childhood, but right now, Lizzie was simply prepared to fight for the schedule she’d never allowed herself to mention to anyone else before and it wasn’t like they weren’t friends.

Talked outside the group chat, even.

That meant something. Definitely meant something. Had to mean something. Her lips felt like they’d been doused in liquid nitrogen.

She didn’t know all the scientific properties of liquid nitrogen, but it always made that rather impressive cloud of steam-type stuff on cooking shows. So, it seemed very likely that it did something similar to cause whatever was happening in the region directly surrounding her mouth. Buzzing and tingling, and whatnot.

When had Roland last blinked? Lizzie couldn’t remember. That would have been impressive in any other situation. Right now, it was sort, kind of, totally— Pissing her off.

Color dotted his cheeks, no sign of the goddamn dimple because he wasn’t smiling, presumably couldn’t do that when it was clear he was so intent on pulling his lips into his mouth, and that felt a little insulting. Her tongue had just been in that mouth.

Lizzie was fairly confident in the abilities of her tongue, so she wasn’t all that pleased to be replaced by a pair of lips that could have been doing much better work against the side of her neck.

“If you sit here right now and tell me that you are,” Lizzie lifted a finger, “one, sorry,” another finger, “two, anything even remotely resembling regretful,” another finger, wiggling close enough to Roland’s nose to make him just a bit cross-eyed, “or, three, too old for me, I will throw my heel at that bruise I know exists on the back of your left calf.”

His lips twitched.

He really had impossible eyelashes. Seemingly made so he could glance up from underneath them, to meet Lizzie’s steely expression with what she refused to believe could be cautious hope. Passable optimism, maybe. She’d have to look up what liquid nitrogen did, later.

“I’m standing.” “I hate you.”

“You wanna go in order, or how do you want to work this?” “Where else are you bruised?” Roland laughed softly, a shift of his shoulders and tiny burst of air between barely parted lips. Feeling that tiny burst meant they were standing very close to each other. How they were standing remained another mystery.

One of those great ones, Lizzie figured. The kind referenced when people talked about the sweeping potential of life and love and— Ah, fuck.

“Please don’t threaten to attack me anywhere else,” he muttered, before quickly adding, “you gotta know this was not my end game, Liza.” Narrowing her eyes did nothing to temper the…tempest. Swirling in her gut. Threatening the back of her throat. Eating away at vocal cords and vocal boxes and the structural integrity of her entire goddamn larynx. Possibly her tongue, too, just to be especially efficient.

“Really? Might’a been mine, actually.”

She’d always liked his eyes.

How they could widen, and it wasn’t like...a normal brown. Nothing about the way he looked was ever dull. Drifted toward regularly excited, and the sparkles were probably a figment of her over-active teenage imagination, but Lizzie liked to think sometimes the sparkle came from her. Because of her, even. When she’d call because he always wanted to hear about her latest lecture and he’d call because sometimes Western swings were exhausting and loneliness-inducing and—

She knew.

He knew.

They knew each other.

Grand scheme, the sparkle-prone eyes still weren’t particularly close to the dimple. On the list of things Lizzie liked. What left butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart hammering against her chest. Sparkle was probably a solid fourth. Behind the precise way his curls fell toward his eyebrows when he didn’t have time to get his hair cut. Which rarely happened during the season. Right now, it was happening right now. Well-defined strands that Lizzie knew felt even smoother than she’d ever theorized between her fingers, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that information.

Obsess over it, probably.

For at least the next week, or so.

Still. Eyes. Eyelashes. Too long and too bright, and that was the wrong description order and she was starting to teeter. On the edge of a rather dramatic free-fall. Into feelings and possibility, and this was way too dramatic. For both of them.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled, a scrunch of her nose that apparently demanded his thumb. Brushing against the bridge, and there wasn’t any caution there. No obvious fear or concern. For the way it left Lizzie’s lungs pinched, and there must have been a limit.

To everything her internal organs could cope with in a limited span of time.

“What was the last one on the list?” She swallowed. “Too old.” “Yuh-huh.” “Pretty flimsy as far as excuses go. You realize I’m not asking you to marry me right now, right?” He choked. On what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Only that it made her stomach heave and her teeth dig into her lower lip, and that was— “Because I know I said, end game,” Lizzie continued, giving in to the need to fill empty space with the sound of her own voice, “but that sounds like several pop culture references all at once, and you know how much I—”

“Hate to come across as disingenuous.” “Mattie’s the pop culture reference machine, anyway.” “Please don’t talk about Matt when I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you again.” Her eyes, that time. Widened. Bugged. Did something unnatural. “Yeah?” “You’re kidding me, right?” “You’re not an old man.” Rolling his eyes, Roland’s tongue dragged across the front of his teeth. To torture her, apparently. “I was in college when you were a freshman in high school.” “Yuh-huh.” “Liza.” “Nah, nah,” Lizzie shook her head. Crossed her arms. Tried to stand up to her full height, but even the heels didn’t do much to add to the overall intimidation factor. Roland was doing an awful job of fighting off his smile. “Pulling out ancient nicknames is not—” “—It’s not a nickname; it’s literally letters in your name.” “Nick,” she leaned forward, “name. All personal-like.”

Making mistakes was not something she enjoyed very much. It was that Jones competitive streak. Plus, the Vankald stubborn streak. Created a monster of determination, who knew what she wanted, and feeling Roland’s fingers graze her cheek as a strand of hair hung limply in the minimal space between them was the result of Lizzie’s mistaken movement.

Even as much as she might have wanted it.

Goosebumps prickled her arms. Stole whatever oxygen she’d managed to get in the last forty-six seconds, or so. Her eyes fluttered. Head tilted. Towards the touch and the warmth, and for someone who spent so much time on the ice, he really was impossibly warm.

“This is your fault.”

He didn’t move his fingers. Cupped her cheek, instead. “You were doing that eyebrow thing.” “Expand on that for me.” “Lifting ‘em. Happens sometimes. When you’re listening intently. Like you’re a little amazed by new information. They’re these stupid little arches on your face. Drives me nuts.” “The compliment was in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.” “I am so much older than you, Liza.” “Shouldn’t’a played out a bunch of teenage daydreams at once, then.” She was legitimately worried about the state of his tongue. Barely biting back her laugh, Lizzie let her eyes lift. To find Roland gaping at her, drooped shoulders and puppy-dog eyes. And that goddamn dimple. “C’mon, this isn’t...do you think I haven’t made out with people before?” “Wouldn’t classify what we just did as a makeout.” “No?” His eyes darkened. Shivering was probably not a good move, right? Right. Definitely. She wasn’t shivering. It was just...January. And inside. With dozens of people around them. “I would not, no,” Roland said, and the drop in overall volume was some sort of trick. Or, something.

“How many people do you think you’ve made out with? Ballpark it for me.” “No.” “Is the issue a lack of appropriate numbers to tally that mark, or—” She bit her tongue, again. At the flash of amused frustration sweeping his face and polluting the molecules of whatever air was hovering between them. Permeating was a better word. Lizzie really needed to work on all of that. Words. Being slightly less jealous of potential make outs that didn’t have anything to do with her and definitely happened because there had to be other people out there in the world who simply could not cope with the existence of that dimple.

“How many people have you made out with, then?” “Scores,” Lizzie snarled, only to get immediately scoffed at. “I’m really, incredibly popular.” “Oh, I’ve got no doubt.” “Boatloads of guys. Lining up to,” she pointed an imperious finger at her mouth, “make out with this.” “Your well-defined chin?” “I’m going to take my shoe off.” “Draw attention with a move like that.” Whatever fight she had didn’t immediately die. It just, sort of, fell. At her feet, threatening all the bones there and there were too many. All of them far too fragile. For whatever metaphor she was running with at the moment. “And we’re not trying to do that, huh? Draw attention.” “Shouldn’t you be out sowing wild oats?” “Really know how to charm a girl,” she grumbled, and that got her a smile. No scoff. Not even the hint of a smile. The whiplash was hurting her neck. “Trust me, the oats have appropriately sowed. If I was ever particularly inclined to farm work.” “I’m starting to be vaguely embarrassed by all of this.” “Good.” Wasn’t quite a scoff. Was more like a half-hearted laugh, and a tinge of desire and that was better than the other emotions, but the decreasing level of Roland’s eyebrows gave her pause. “What about the status of your oats?”

“Well sowed, rookie season,” Roland said.

“You’re going to change the name on your jersey.” “Not sure that particular fact has a lot to do with anything else. Seven years, Liza.” “I’m perfectly capable of doing math, you know I took that stats class once.” “Because I double checked everything you turned in.” “Makes you slightly less of an idiot than the vibe you're giving off right now.” “A freeway or compliments.” Pulling in a deep inhale through her nose, Lizzie didn’t miss the way Roland’s gaze fell. To the neckline of her dress, lingering on the jut of her collarbones for a few seconds longer than a strictly platonic friendship should allow, and they were friends. Still. She knew that as well as she knew that he believed she thought he was simply being clever with nicknames.

And not making vaguely incorrect My Fair Lady references.

Because he’d always been a little annoyed that Eliza had gone back to Henry Higgins. Instead of Freddie.

It was really impossible not to be a little in love with him at all times.

“You’re really going to hyphenate?” Roland nodded. “Think of all the new jerseys they’ll sell.” “By the box-load, and Gina’s gonna buy the entire stock. She’s—that’s really nice, you know.” “Just a fact. Little late, but—” He shrugged. Lizzie’s smile threatened to split her face. In that same nice way, she’d been talking about. Her lips were still buzzing. She might have been buzzing. With adrenaline. Happiness. The near-desperate desire to find some type of closet and get her fingers back in Roland’s questionably long hair.

“Of naming conventions.” She couldn’t begin to guess what the record was for shoulder shifts in an emotionally charged conversation between two people who were simultaneously ignoring the point of the conversation, but Lizzie also knew her eyebrows had been halfway up her face as he’d detailed the reasons for making his jersey say Mills-Locksley. From here on out.

Maybe that was the top of the list, actually.

He was a good guy.

Had always been a good guy. The best guy, really.

Falling into that chasm wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Lizzie expected it to be.

“Why’d you do it?” Roland’s lips disappeared. His tongue moved, again. She was staring at the area around his tongue. So, like, his mouth. Directly at his mouth. “Because, I uh—have wanted to?” “Oh, don’t phrase that like a question.” “Wanted to,” he repeated, a statement of fact with a certain amount of conviction. Enough to make Lizzie’s pulse sputter. “Which is kind of freaking me out.” “Come back with more compliments.” “Your dress nearly made me fall over.” “Better, actually,” she laughed.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Made sense at the time.” “Be more specific.” “Kissing you,” Roland said, enough emphasis that he leaned forward half an inch as well. It was a miracle their noses didn’t collide. Not the most impressive miracle, but—counted. “If I tell you that you might be my best friend does that make the lamest professional hockey player alive?” “Yes, absolutely.” “Matt might challenge you to a duel if he hears me talking like this, you know.” “God, Locksley, didn’t we just talk about the Mattie rules? Also, that made it sound like Mattie wants to kiss you too, so...”

He chuckled. Fingers still tugging on the back of his hair, like he was trying to ground himself in the pull and the self-inflicted tension, Roland looked up. Back at her. And Lizzie didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Held her position and prepared herself to defend the schedule she’d only ever allowed herself to hope for in the silence of that one corner in her brain.

Filled, as it was, with memories. Of conversations that didn’t have anything to do with hockey. Others that did. Arguing over blue line placement in the brownstone and college rankings. Of movies watched on two different laptops in different corners of the country, bad jokes, and consistent updates, that deep-rooted understanding that came from a life full of expectations and the exact opposite. No overt pressure, but the need to prove yourself anyway, if only because of the name on the back of the jersey, and Lizzie was going to have to buy a new jersey.

“You like me? Yes, or no?” Roland smiled. Wide and honest, the kind that ensured the dimple was on prominent display. “Yes.” “I am a grown adult? Yes, or no?” Crinkles appeared around his eyes. From the smile.

“Yes.” “Meaning I get to make my own choices. Romantically, or otherwise. Yes, or no?” “Obviously.” “Wasn’t one of the options.” “Yes,” Roland corrected, fingers trailing over the bend of her elbow. Lizzie hadn’t uncrossed her arms. Or remembered when she’d crossed them in the first place.

“Ok, good. Same page, then.” “Liza.” “Locksley.” Lifting her eyebrows wasn’t a challenge, per se. Was closer to instinct, really. Specifics didn’t matter, honestly. She did that thing with her eyebrows, and he did that thing with his mouth, the same one she was staring at and hoping would move closer to her, and then—

Well, it did.

Hands found Lizzie’s hips, pulling her forward sharply enough that she let out a soft grunt. From the feel of hips bumping against hers, and she honestly wasn’t sure who hissed in their next inhale, only that it did something to the flutter-like state of her pulse and the erratic nature of her heart, and it was slow and fast and good and great and not a single person noticed.

Miracles were arriving en masse, apparently.

Pushing her fingers into Roland’s hair got Lizzie another hum of approval, the first brush of his tongue making her lips part and her head fall to the side, but then his hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and she could not be expected to pay attention to anything except the semi-consistent swipe of his thumb against her skin. It left more goosebumps. Caused another chuckle, the kind that rumbled through her and resonated around her, a tiny bubble of that same cautious optimism from before.

Like a spark.

Fanning flames and threatening to burn everything because if this didn’t work, then Lizzie wasn’t sure what would, and that was scary and overwhelming and terrifying was a synonym, but she really was working with very limited word-based resources when Roland’s thumb kept moving. Tracing her. Committing the feel to memory, and she wasn’t sure when they’d established the rocking pattern they were moving in, but something deep in the center of her trusted it.

Someone who regularly strapped knives to his feet and raced around at top speed knew how to stay balanced. And she was a stubborn idiot. Who got what she wanted.

“Is part of liking me because I told you I didn’t think it was embarrassing that you still got a little emotional about Miracle on 34th Street?” Laughter pushed past her lips. Took root in the pit of her stomach and the spaces between her ribs. Laced through her heart. In the kind of way that cemented itself. Right in the middle of Lizzie. Right in the middle of this. Them.

There was a them, now.

“Was definitely a factor, yeah,” Roland said, not bothering to pull away. “You, uh—you snuck up on me a little, Liza.” “Peak romance.” “Want me to talk about your dress some more?” She shook her head. “Unnecessary. And you didn’t.” “That might be part of the problem.” “Nursing old crushes, you mean?” Her hair hit her cheek. And his hand. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. “Nah, this wasn’t like...there was no torch, not really. I—I wasn’t hanging posters of you on my wall if that’s the picture you’ve painted for yourself.” “Kinda disappointing, admittedly.” “Pick a lane, babe.” No sparkle, that time. Just flash and want and the very thin line Lizzie’s lips had become. “Be more specific,” Roland repeated softly. “You’re not standing on a pedestal. Just you, Rol, as is.” He waited. That was fair. There should have been more. Should have been a detailed list of all the reasons the grown-up version of her liked so many parts of the grown-up version of him, but that all felt a little extraneous when she was still thinking about closet-type possibilities and that stubborn streak was a mile wide, anyway.

Roland nodded once. “Good.”

Both of them jumped. At the pop of another champagne bottle and Lizzie never understood how Regina managed to order so much champagne every year, but she felt a bit like she was floating on the bubbles, and they didn’t decide. Explicitly. To keep the whole thing—

Secret.

Another bad word. With bad connotations and shadows that clung to the definition, but this was them and only them and, for right now, that was enough. And if no one noticed the way Roland’s hand drifted over the small of Lizzie’s back during David’s speech, then that was a miracle she was willing to accept.

#blue line rambles #blue line one shots #these really are just original characters at this point #i have also written:#matt and claire meeting for the first time #henry and ella meeting for the first time #stuff about peggy and jeremy humbert #and i've got a whole list of will x belle stuff #in case it wasn't ovbious people still aren't responding to my emails #oh! also roland and lizzie's engagement #i wrote that too #also if you are so inclined: wilder days by morgan wade played like four times while i wrote this #mylifeisalifestyle #laura rambles

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